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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962002">Burn Like the Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream'>IndigoDream</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Blood and Injury, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fire, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pain, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Temporary Amnesia, True Love, god jaskier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The man doesn’t smell of fear. He hasn’t, ever since that first moment, eagerly bouncing on his heels, when Geralt had walked into his lord’s court. He smells of excitement and interest, and a little bit of lust too. It’s a woody scent, and it wraps around Geralt endlessly, no matter how much he tries to ignore it. It’s annoying to have enhanced senses in those moments. He really wants to be able to block it out, to keep the bard out of his thoughts. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>After a hunt gone ever so slightly wrong, Geralt finds himself entangled in matters that he doesn’t understand. Jaskier, who he had believed to be a simple, if annoying, bard, bursts into flames, and afterwards has no recollection of his life beyond a few basics. Without realizing what it will entail, Geralt accepts the task of helping Jaskier regain his memories. There are more than a few bumps on that path, however, but Jaskier and Geralt are determined.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Geraskier Midsummer Mini Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ah~ </p><p>It's finally here! I'm so happy to share this story finally! This was written for the <a href="https://geraskiermidsummerminibang.tumblr.com"> Geraskier Midsummer Minibang!</a> This was such a lovely event, and I loved participating in it! </p><p>Huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkelimagnus/works">Enkelimagnus</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/works%22">Malicious Vegetarian</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyyoungblood/works">geekyyoungblood</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosWriting/works">ChaosWriting</a>, and all the lovely people who have helped me with this story! </p><p>Also huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaller/works">my amazing beta, smaller</a> and <a href="https://omaano.tumblr.com">my amazing artist, Omaano</a>! Y'all made this work possible, and so enjoyable!! </p><p>Hope you enjoy the story!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt usually doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t mind the hunts. He wouldn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t ever say he <em>likes</em> them, they are much too prone to getting him into all kinds of pain, but he has grown to be used to them. They are a moment where he can focus on a task at hand, and not let his mind wander to the <em>what ifs</em> of life. This, killing monsters, tracking them, is what he was made to do. He is a witcher after all; going after monsters is in his blood. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">So, what kind of monster are we chasing after?” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The key word of the situation is <em>usually</em>. Because today, and for the next few days in fact, he has a bard stuck to his side. Jaskier is Lord Hayslip</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s bard, a pretty little thing with a mouth too big for Geralt</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s liking. He talks so much in fact that Geralt has trouble focusing, because all his senses are tuned into listening to the rapid, useless chatter of the bard. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s distracting, and it only gets worse whenever the bard starts humming softly to himself. If only he could just get rid of him - but no. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s in the contract, the rather generous one at that, that Geralt must let the bard accompany him on his trip. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Geralt?” Jaskier insists. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Are you ever going to answer my questions? It</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">s considered quite rude, did you know, to ignore your companion, and since my company is such—“ </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Shut up,” Geralt snarls. </span> <span class="s2">“</span><span class="s1">You talk so much you</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">re going to attract every monster that lives nearby.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Isn</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">t that why you</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">re here, O witcher? To find those beasts and kill them? To make sure they do not harm any humans again, and that the local population is safe?” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Did you not listen to a word I just said?” Geralt asks, exasperated, as they keep walking through the forest. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Keep quiet.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Oh, I listened,” Jaskier hums. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">But I decided to discard that piece of advice. I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">m sure I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">ll do well with a witcher by my side!” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">You should go back to the lord</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">s court,” Geralt says as he keeps walking. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">You</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">ll get hurt here.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">You</span> <span class="s2">’</span> <span class="s1">re not getting rid of me that easily,” Jaskier chuckles. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">It</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">s very endearing that you think I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">m just going to walk away because a gorgeous man in tight leather told me to.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt rolls his eyes. That</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s the other thing. Jaskier keeps flirting, and frankly, Geralt doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t get it. Why would he flirt when they barely know each other? Geralt isn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t even interested. He doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t get people who flirt like that, just for the sake of flirting and making people blush or fall for them. He has noticed that it</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s what all those rich, vapid people do, so he doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t question it any further for now. If he doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t respond, hopefully Jaskier will stop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Alright, so, you</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">re not answering now, that</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">s not very adult of you. I'</span><span class="s1">ve had more mature behaviour from the children at court, and frankly, they are <em>terribly</em> behaved. Who knew having so much money and time on your hands could make you such a spoiled little thing? Really, you should have seen—“ </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighs heavily and tunes the bard out. Clearly, he isn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t shutting up any time soon. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The monster they are tracking seems to be fleeing something, almost like it can sense that there is something hunting it, considering the hurried tracks Geralt finds on the second day of their hunt. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s strange. Usually, monsters never flee from anything. Most of them are beasts who are alarmed by neither humans nor witchers, and who don</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t feel fear. Either there is something bigger in these woods and Geralt needs to seriously worry, or the monster isn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t what he thinks it is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“</span>
  <span class="s1">So, have you figured it out yet, mighty witcher?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span><span class="s1">Jaskier,” he snaps. </span> <span class="s2">“</span><span class="s1">I told you to not come up so close to me like this.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“</span>
  <span class="s1">I</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">m just trying to keep informed! If I must write a song about your glorious deeds, I need to know everything you do!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“</span>
  <span class="s1">You don</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t. There will be a monster, it will be big and will try to kill us both, I</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">ll kill it, and then I</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">m dumping it, and you, back at your lord</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s castle and leaving town.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“</span>
  <span class="s1">Don</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t you like my company? Me, who thought we were starting to be friends, you disappoint me, truly. Such a shame, your manners are really abysmal, my dear.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“</span>
  <span class="s1">Don</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t call me that,” Geralt snarls, and Jaskier snorts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t smell of fear. He hasn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t, ever since that first moment, eagerly bouncing on his heels, when Geralt had walked into his lord</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s court. He smells of excitement and interest, and a little bit of lust too. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s a woody scent, and it wraps around Geralt endlessly, no matter how much he tries to ignore it. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s annoying to have enhanced senses in those moments. He really wants to be able to block it out, to keep the bard out of his thoughts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">What, ‘my dear’? Is that what finally gets a rise out of you?” Jaskier grins. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The light of the sun casts him in golden shadows in the forest, and Geralt wants to say that no, it doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t get a rise out of him. It annoys him because he can detect a lie when he hears one, can hear the way Jaskier</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s words are void of any meaning. If he is to be called things such as those, he doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t want it to come from the mouth of a bard who seduces every woman, and most of the men too, Geralt feels confident assuming, in the towns he lives in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">Fine,” Jaskier says when Geralt doesn</span><span class="s2">’t</span><span class="s1"> answer, but simply glares at him with all his might. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">ll call you by your name then, Geralt of Rivia. What</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">s the problem with the monster?” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">What tells you there is a problem?” Geralt is a bit confused, and slightly surprised as well, that Jaskier might have been able to pick up on his faint unease, or understand that he wasn</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">t worried, per se, but more intrigued by what he saw. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Jaskier strums his lute as they start walking again. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">You frowned and looked at those tracks for a long time.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Geralt knows he hadn</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">t examined the tracks for longer than a few seconds. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">How could you even tell? You met me two days ago.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Jaskier chuckles. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">You think that I can</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">t tell when someone is preoccupied and could use a distraction? I</span> <span class="s2">’</span> <span class="s1">m a bard, Geralt. Being the entertaining divertissement is quite literally what I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">m being paid for.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">And I</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">m paid to kill nuisances,” Geralt answers with a grunt. </span> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">So don</span><span class="s2">’</span><span class="s1">t get in my way.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">So grumpy! You think it would make good lyrics? ‘The grumpy White Wolf, always ignoring his lovely bard, gather along to listen to his adventures…’” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sings mockingly and Geralt rolls his eyes. Bards.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s not until the next afternoon that they find the monster. Jaskier has finally fallen quiet, a small blessing for Geralt. Quiet doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t mean silent in the bard</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s case, however, and all his small noises are immensely distracting. Unlike the witcher, he doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t know how to keep his steps light and quiet. There is also the matter of his incessant tapping and thrumming on his lute, whenever he takes the damned instrument out. You could believe he could not live without it in his arms, considering how often he takes it out of its case and caresses its strings tenderly. There is a reverence in how Jaskier touches the wooden instrument, something that makes Geralt wonder what is it that the bard can see in it. He doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t voice those questions. He doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t care about a bard, doesn'</span>
  <span class="s1">t even want to be stuck in this forest with him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is thus only lightly strumming his lute and playing when the monster falls upon them, and Geralt doesn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t notice until it</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s too late. He no longer has the time to get the stupid bard to some semblance of safety. So he growls and pushes him backward as hard as he can to make sure he</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">ll be behind him. Then he draws his silver sword and turns back to the monster, a snarl on his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The beast isn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t huge, but it</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s definitely not what Geralt had been anticipating. He hadn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t thought it would be a Beast of Anvar. Its mouth is open in a large grin, monstrous rows of rotten teeth not managing to hide the inferno behind them. Beasts of Anvar are the worst to deal with, and they love the summer, for a reason that Geralt never quite understood. It is always then that they attack the most, and it is always then that they are the most difficult to kill.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is astonished by the fact that it was running away from him though, and now that they are at the base of a small cliff, it has turned around and decided to face him. That kind of Beast is a rather intelligent one, and powerful enough that it would not fear a witcher. So why is it waiting for him now? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The large claws of the Beast reach for him and Geralt snarls right back at the monster, slashing at it. He won</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t let this bastard get him, not now, not ever. It</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s not just his own life at risk here, but also the life of the bard, who had, foolishly, decided to accompany him. Fuck him and that decision, but Geralt isn</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t about to let him die either. He had decided against wearing his armour that morning; after all the tracks had indicated a predator long gone. He had thought he wouldn't catch up with it until tomorrow at the very least. He had been wrong. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is knocked against the cliff and his head hits the stone harshly. He can feel blood slowly dripping down his neck, down his shirt and onto the stone. He swears. Head wounds are the worst. He</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">ll need to see a healer for that one, since he most likely won</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t be able to reach it himself. He grasps the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword tighter and tries to stab the beast, but of course its weak points are on its back or above where Geralt can reach from his restrained position, pinned against the cliff by the Beast. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When his sword is knocked away, he swears and snarls, trying to defend himself even as the monster</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s teeth sink into his shoulder and bite harshly. The poison in it makes him yell in pain and thrash more against the cliff wall, and more blood splatters all over him. Pain overwhelms him, and as much as he tries to fight back, he can</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Fuck</em>, he thinks as he faintly hears his name being yelled and everything starts fading to black. His luck has run out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a shout, and the monster falls away from him, but Geralt only sinks to the ground. His mutated body can fight it as much as it wants, but there is no way he can make it to his bags and to his potions right now. He</span>
  <span class="s2">’</span>
  <span class="s1">s going to die here. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A flash of light and warmth are the last things he remembers, and then it is blissful darkness and silence. </span>
</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wakes up to only mild pain and the roaring warmth of a fire. It takes him a few seconds to blink awake, and when he does he sees the bard fluttering around like a nervous bird. The man’s movements are too fast for Geralt’s tired eyes to follow sometimes, and he keeps moving, walking back and forth between the fire and the dark shadows of the woods, his hands fluttering around him. A hummingbird, that’s what he reminds Geralt of. Never stopping, always in motion. You’d think the man was unable to lay still, that if his wings didn’t flutter he would fall down and the world would collapse on him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grunts, sitting up. “What the fuck happened?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier, of course, startles. “Oh, you’re awake. That’s grand, great, wonderful! How are you feeling?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like I got run over by a monster,” Geralt grunts, “What kind of fucking question is that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The only answer he gets out of Jaskier is a huff. “Let me check your wounds.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Piss off, bard,” he says without any heat as Jaskier comes closer to him and starts looking at his wounds, dressed with strips of a white shirt that Geralt doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t wear white; it gets stained with blood too easily, and it’s always a pain to clean it properly. That means Jaskier tore up one of his own shirts to make sure Geralt was patched up properly. He hadn’t expected the bard to actually know how to take care of injuries, but the man’s hands are steady and his eyes are focused when he unwinds the dressings to get a look at Geralt’s wounds. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re healing well,” he says, something strange in his voice, but Geralt doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t know the bard well after all. “I actually think you might not need the bandages anymore… You haven’t bled through them in hours, and the lacerations look fully closed… How is your head?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt shifts his shoulder, and the only sensation he gets is the uncomfortable stretch of a new scar forming. “How long have I been out?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A day, barely. How is your head? Answer this time, will you, I can’t help you if you don’t answer me.” Jaskier stays focused on the wounds, applying a salve Geralt recognizes. Healer’s balm, a strange, not to mention expensive, salve for a bard to have. “Don’t give me that look. I’m a valued member of Lord Hayslip’s court, of course I was given something to soothe wounds in case of an incident happening.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here it is again, the slight twinge in his voice and the spike of nervousness in his scent as he speaks. Geralt frowns when that smell of spice, perhaps peppercorn?, reaches his nostrils. The bard has smelled, constantly since they met, of campfire and honey, a combination that had put his mind at rest. The peppercorn throws Geralt off slightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My head’s alright,” he finally answers. “Doesn’t feel like I got slammed against a cliff repeatedly. What happened?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, yes, that,” Jaskier chuckles nervously. “Well um, you were unconscious, and the monster was distracted, so I was able to um. To kill it with your sword. The um, the silver one of course.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt frowns a bit. He remembers having his sword in hand when he had fallen to the ground, hearing the silver clank against the cliff. It had been on the opposite side of where the bard had been hiding. It doesn’t make sense for Jaskier to have managed to get the sword and to have managed to kill the Beast of Anvar. How could a lowly bard kill a monster that had defeated many a witcher before? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opens his mouth to ask about it and question Jaskier fully, but instead he groans as his swords are dropped on his lap. “What the fuck?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, shit, sorry,” the bard scrambles to pick the swords back up, moving them so they are next to Geralt instead. “I remember hearing that witchers never separated from their swords, so I thought you might get antsy if your weapons weren’t close to you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How oddly considerate of him. “Right.” He looks at his swords and frowns. “What the fuck happened to my sword grip?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He always has a layer of leather wrapped around the hilts of his swords. The leather is worn and comfortable, which makes it easier for him to handle his swords, and he never leaves for a hunt without making sure the leather is still in good enough condition. Right now though, the leather grip on his silver sword is black and pocked with holes, a clear indication that it was burnt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I um, I was trying to clean the monster guts? And I thought that maybe warming it up would be a good idea? But instead it burnt. I’m so sorry Geralt, I’ll pay for a new one as soon as we are back in town, I truly meant no harm.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You thought warming up <em>leather</em> was a good idea?” Geralt doesn’t know whether to be incredulous at the absolute idiocy of the man or furious that he even tried to do that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never pretended to be good at cleaning swords,” Jaskier protests. “And I was focused on trying to keep you alive, O witcher! You went in there and nearly got slaughtered, and that monster bit through your shoulder and all that burly muscle like they were nothing! A lot of good it did you out there! You would think that witchers had figured that they should wear armour by now, and really, you could have died and—“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” Geralt chuckles a bit, cutting in and stopping Jaskier’s incessant flow of words. “How did you heal me? You don’t seem to have any magic, unless you’re a sorcerer in disguise as a bard.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier gasps. “A sorcerer? No, absolutely not! I um. You mentioned your potions and um, I found the right one?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The right one?” Geralt’s eyebrows rise. “It would have taken at least three to get me to heal this fast.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, well, that’s what I meant to say. The right ones! You asked for them right after I killed that monster and well, then you were healing well so I couldn’t complain, could I?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t get hurt while killing it?” Geralt decides not to mention that he doesn’t remember being awake enough to ask for the potions, or that Jaskier’s story has holes in it bigger than the ones the fire burnt into the leather of his sword. “Beasts of Anvar are venomous.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier tugs on his left sleeve and shakes his head. “Not a scratch,” he lies. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt doesn’t let it pass. He grabs the bard’s left arm and roughly shoves the clothing up. Underneath the blue sleeve, he finds a large claw mark, red with freshness, and a sun-shaped scar peeking from the crook of his elbow. He touches the claw mark with a frown. Jaskier should be dead. There is little to no chance of a human surviving any encounter with a Beast of Anvar. If a witcher can’t kill it, then a human can’t either. A human <em>shouldn’t</em> be able to kill one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clearly, that assessment is wrong when it comes to Jaskier. Somehow, the bard survived being clawed at by one of the most venomous monsters there are on the Continent, and he also managed to kill it. They wouldn’t be here and safe otherwise. There is also the matter of Geralt’s own healing… He shouldn’t be this well healed, not only a day afterwards. His potions and the salve Jaskier has been applying aren’t enough, and Jaskier’s nervousness is clearly a tell of his lies. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got hurt,” he states a bit uselessly, and then notices again the sun-shaped scar. “What’s this?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier tries to take back his arm but Geralt’s hold is tight, although not enough to hurt. “I’m fine. This is just… an old scar. I have a bunch of others like that. I don’t know where it came from but well.” Jaskier shrugs. “They don’t even hurt.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Show me,” Geralt orders. This looks like a curse, a physical manifestation of something that takes hold of Jaskier. Is that why he is able to heal? Is he a creature forced to live in a human body? And yet his wolf medallion has been quiet in Jaskier’s presence.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do I really have to?” Jaskier complains and moves back. “It’s really nothing spectacular, you know, they all look the same! There is really nothing for you to observe, witcher. I don’t see why—“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said, show me,” Geralt growls and Jaskier rolls his eyes but takes off his doublet and shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here. I’m not taking off my pants, so don’t you dare count on that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come closer,” Geralt orders again, and there is a flash of anger in Jaskier’s eyes. “Please. I just need to see something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard sighs, but he comes closer, settling next to Geralt. “Is it going to be long? I don’t normally prance around clothesless in woods.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’ll be longer if you keep talking,” Geralt says without any bite in it, and he frowns. He can’t see well like this. “Get over here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier makes a surprised noise of protest as Geralt pulls him over and onto his lap, and his legs come to bracket Geralt’s thighs a bit awkwardly. “Um, is this absolutely necessary? I’m sure you could see better in another position and I’m probably blocking the light from the fire. Don’t you need to rest anyway? You got injured pretty badly, and your head must be spinning. You should rest, Geralt, not do um, what are you doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His voice has been rising higher and higher as Geralt’s hands have settled over his torso. It’s almost funny, and Geralt can’t help the slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The bard is flustered, or at least nervous, about the fact that Geralt is examining his scars and picking them apart. He’s trying to understand the pattern to make sure that he has never seen it before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Each scar is a delicate, purplish stylized sun, with six crooked rays. That’s strange enough, and even stranger is that every single scar is so similar to the previous one. Geralt touches every scar, trying to see if there are any bumps or distinguishable scarring, but rather than being marks like a weapon, or a branding iron, would leave, the scars, if they are indeed that, are almost fully smooth, except for the edges, which are slightly more bumpy. It’s almost like the suns were outlined on his skin with something sharp, and then his skin underneath took on that purple color. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does it hurt?” Geralt asks, poking lightly at the closest scar, and Jaskier shivers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” he answers shaking his head. “No more than if you poked anywhere else.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How expressive,” Jaskier mocks slightly, and shivers again when Geralt touches his abdomen. “Keep your hands above the belt, will you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt ignores the comment. “Do you have any on your legs?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A couple,” Jaskier answers. “Most are on my torso though.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How many do you have?” Geralt is still touching the scars, a slight frown on his face as he tries to discern what they symbolize. He is a bit distracted in his analysis by the softness of the skin he touches, and its warmth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, um, could you,” Jaskier’s voice is coming short and slightly breathless. “Geralt, stop that, please, it’s very distracting.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s hands still on Jaskier, but he doesn’t remove them. The bard is well built, and there is a beauty about him, something that makes Geralt, now without the hunt to keep his mind focused away from the man, realize he wants to sink his teeth into the crook of his neck and make him sing in entirely new ways. Maybe… Jaskier had been flirting, after all. And Geralt feels warm with him on top of him like this. He just nearly died, after all. Doesn’t he deserve to allow himself to enjoy someone else's presence, for once?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” Geralt’s thumbs rub circles into Jaskier’s hipbones. “Is that what you want?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Weren’t you just looking at my scars?” Jaskier tilts his head to the side, but shivers still. “What are you doing now?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Looking at the scars from closer still. You didn’t answer my question.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve got,” Jaskier bites his own lips when Geralt’s hands move down his legs, slowly caressing his thighs through the pants. “About thirty? I think um, thirty two.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s quite the number,” the witcher remarks, and his nose nudges at a scar at the base of Jaskier’s neck. “Which was the first one?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know,” Jaskier answers, breathless. “Listen, if you’re going to tease and not—“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stops to let out a soft moan when Geralt bites lightly at the skin. “You were saying?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt, what are you doing,” Jaskier asks and slowly puts his hands on Geralt’s shoulders. “You’re wounded and you don’t even like me!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t have to like you to want you,” Geralt shrugs. “If you don’t want this though, say the word and I’ll stop. I swear that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier licks his lips and looks away slightly. “You won’t treat me like shit afterwards, right? Toss me away and leave me here?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt frowns. “Why would I do that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard shrugs. “You could. You don’t even like me, and you don’t exactly need me to get your money.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You were the one to kill the Beast,” Geralt growls and forces Jaskier to look at him. “I’m not going to fuck you and abandon you in the woods. I’m not a savage.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier shrugs, and something in his eyes tells Geralt more than his words do. “That lord of yours. He liked to do that to you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes Jaskier a few seconds before he can properly articulate a sentence, and during that time, Geralt trails kisses over his torso and throat. Maybe he doesn’t really like the bard, but it doesn’t mean the bard won’t satisfy him. There is also something somewhat… endearing about the scarred man, even if Geralt would never say so out loud. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He isn’t… the kindest of lovers,” Jaskier sighs slightly. “Not one to stay and make sure I also get off.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unsatisfied,” Geralt murmurs and his hands return to Jaskier’s thighs. “I wouldn’t leave you like that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier moans again when Geralt presses his hand to his half-hard, still covered, cock. “Fuck, yeah, I don’t doubt that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good.” Geralt moves his hands away, looking at Jaskier seriously. “Do you want this? I won’t hold it against you if you say no. I’ll respect your decision. On my honour as a witcher.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looks at him, bites his lips a bit nervously. “Kiss me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A bit surprised by the command, Geralt obeys, pulling the bard into a gentle kiss. It doesn’t stay gentle very long. Jaskier bites and pulls at his lower lip, and there is a warmth building up between them as they trade harsh kisses. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is more confident now, more demanding. He tugs on Geralt’s hair to force the witcher to tilt his head up, and when the movement elicits a moan from Geralt, he grins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re more sensitive than I would have thought,” he says as he bites Geralt’s neck lightly. “Are your wounds alright?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can barely feel them,” Geralt answers honestly, and his hands wander to the laces that close Jaskier’s breeches. “Mind if my hands slip beneath the belt for a bit?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier rolls his eyes at the teasing and tugs on Geralt’s hair again. “I’d be rather cross if you didn’t, my dear witcher.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt ignores the petname and undoes the breeches, pulling Jaskier’s half-hard cock out. It doesn’t take much more than a few lazy pulls and tugs, listening to the bard’s sweet noises, for him to be fully hard. He’s pretty like this, Geralt remarks to himself in passing, all flushed and wanting, his lips half open as he pants. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that all you’re going to do then?” Jaskier asks with a bite to Geralt’s lips. “Didn’t you say you were going to satisfy me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt growls. “Don’t be impatient.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s hard not to be,” he grins. “Here I am, almost fully naked, and you are still wearing your pants. I’ve yet to see what’s hidden underneath those black breeches.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A bit difficult to get naked when I have a bard atop me,” Geralt says, but Jaskier’s hands are working at undoing the laces of his pants, and he shivers when the man caresses his cock. Fuck, it’s been too long since he was with anyone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t see the issue,” Jaskier grins and kisses him again, his hand stroking Geralt’s cock. “I could simply ride you, and wouldn’t that be nice for the both of us?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You never shut up, do you?” Geralt pulls at Jaskier’s pants, almost tearing them with how eager he is. The bard is well-built, tall and lean with strong muscles, and Geralt has half a mind to make him stand up and hold onto a tree while he sucks him off. Another time, maybe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you need help with that?” Jaskier’s smirk is self-satisfied, and he stands up, removing his pants completely. “Don’t move.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Geralt grunts and looks at the man as he moves around the fire, grabbing the box of salve he had used on Geralt’s wounds. “I don’t need more of it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier grins and gets back on top of Geralt without hesitation, his cock rubbing against Geralt’s stomach. “Maybe not you, but I’ll definitely need it if you want to properly fuck me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s other hand goes back to stroking Geralt, grinning as the witcher grabs the salve from his extended palm. “Here we go, aren’t you going to be a good witcher and prepare me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A growl answers him, but soon, Geralt’s fingers are coated in the salve, and he slowly pushes one inside the bard, who seems quite content to moan and let him do it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can give me more,” he says with a wink, and Geralt doesn’t give it a second thought. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pushes another finger inside Jaskier, and the man moans louder, exposing his throat. He bites there, lightly at first, but Jaskier’s hand comes to pull him back against his neck when he tries to move backward. He bites there again as he moves his fingers, slowly at first, but Jaskier moves his hips slightly, and Geralt starts moving his fingers more harshly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be stingy,” Jaskier snaps. “I can take more.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Demanding, aren’t you?” Geralt chuckles a bit and slips his fingers out, reapplying more salve and pushing three inside of Jaskier. “I’m trying not to hurt you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It doesn’t hurt,” the bard pants and his eyes are closed, his cock leaking precum. “Fuck, I need you inside now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not right now, little lark,” Geralt teases as he keeps his fingers moving, biting another dark mark on Jaskier’s neck. “You need to learn patience.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you need to fuck me, now!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt is a bit surprised that Jaskier is so assertive, but he finds that he rather likes it. He is usually soft spoken, singing and talking, maybe too much for Geralt’s liking, who isn’t used to having a travel companion, but right now, his words are laced with steel. It makes Geralt’s blood boil with want, and he almost gives in, almost obeys. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, he simply stretches him more, listening to the sweet sounds he makes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Won’t you sing for me, little lark?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier growls at the nickname, but the sound is cut off when Geralt’s finger touches a more delicate spot inside him, and he arches his back slightly, his hips lifting and falling. He is flushed red with need for the Witcher’s cock, biting his own lips, and it’s Geralt’s turn to grin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kisses Jaskier as he pulls his fingers out and there is a slight protest as he does so. He chuckles and pushes the salve into Jaskier’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you’re so eager, why don’t you do this part?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The glare he receives for that makes him grin, but then Jaskier’s hand is coated in salve, and soon, so is Geralt’s cock. Jaskier isn’t very patient, it seems, because as soon as he is satisfied with the groans he pulls from the Witcher’s throat, he removes his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, are you going to fuck me or do I need to do everything myself?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt smirks. “Are you sure you want the answer to that question?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pouts a bit, and then he lifts himself, taking hold of Geralt’s cock. “I can’t believe you’re having me do all the work. Are you not supposed to satisfy me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you can still talk so much,” Geralt grins and grips Jaskier’s hips. “I’m clearly doing something wrong.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first push inside Jaskier is slow, the man’s heavy breathing and whimpers resonating through the air. Everything is so warm, Geralt feels like he is on fire with every touch of Jaskier, and he bites on the man’s shoulder as Jaskier sinks onto his cock. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” he gasps when his hips are flush with Geralt’s. “You’re <em>big</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is no answer to that, and he keeps talking as he slowly lifts himself up and down on the witcher’s cock, his moans resonating inside of Geralt. It’s hard for him to not simply grip Jaskier’s hips and fuck him harshly, but right now, neither of them is in a state where that would be the best. He wishes he could push Jaskier to the ground and start fucking him like that, marking him all over, showing that he got him, he fucked him and pleasured him, but he <em>can’t</em>. So he has to be content with biting Jaskier’s lips and holding his hips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, Geralt,” Jaskier pants. “You aren’t going to break me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is something strange about him, something too bright, too loud, in a way that doesn’t feel quite human to Geralt. But he is also a beautiful man currently fucking himself on Geralt’s cock and begging for more. Geralt might be just a witcher, but he knows beauty when he sees it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lifts his hips and grips down on Jaskier’s, thrusting his cock inside of the man, who shouts loudly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so fucking loud,” Geralt chuckles, but he loves all the noises he can pull from the other man. He loves knowing that he is pleasing him, that he is the one for whom Jaskier is making those sweet noises. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you not enough,” Jaskier groans and tugs on Geralt’s long white hair. “Am I not to your liking?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moves harshly then, and Geralt moans loudly at the feeling of sharp heat around his cock. Jaskier is smug, pleased by the reaction, and he starts moving again, occasionally helped by Geralt thrusting inside of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When his head dips low on Geralt’s shoulder, his movements slowing down, and he has stopped speaking completely, Geralt takes his cock in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want to come, little lark?” He grins and moves his hand, his hips thrusting inside Jaskier. He wishes they were in a bed, so he could take the bard apart properly, but he can do without for now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, Geralt, fuck you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think it’s rather the opposite,” Geralt’s grip tightens ever so slightly. “Come on, ask for it, Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard shakes his head and starts moving his hips furiously again, but Geralt’s hand doesn’t move on his cock, and he whines a bit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” he pleads, “don’t leave me unsatisfied like that, please.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witcher chuckles. “Fuck yourself on my cock then, and I’ll let you come.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier moans as Geralt’s hand starts moving again, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for him to come. He shouts with pleasure as he does so, tensing around Geralt, and that pushes the witcher over the edge as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard slumps on top of him, a heavy weight, and his head rests on Geralt’s unwounded shoulder as he pants, eyes half closed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was nice,” he says, finally. “Wasn’t expecting that from you, my dear witcher.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What were you expecting then?” Geralt pulls out of Jaskier, eliciting a noise of protest from his partner. “Thought I would be what, animalistic? Rough?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Jaskier chuckles, a hand pushing into Geralt’s chest hair. “Didn’t think you were into men, that’s all.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt almost laughs at that. “Why’s that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier shrugs, nuzzling at his neck and kissing it gently. “Heard rumours witchers only fucked sorceresses and whores.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never met a witcher who cared about someone’s profession the way humans do,” he answers and maneuvers them so he can reach for some clothing to clean them with. “Come on Jaskier, you gotta work with me here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm.” Jaskier seems content to nestle against Geralt’s chest. “Give me a minute. I like when you say my name, you know? So low and rumbly… Bet you have a wonderful singing voice.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighs. Of course the bard is clingy after sex. Still, he doesn’t hate the weight of the man against him, nor the sweet puffs of his breaths in his neck. It’s almost… comfortable. Not many people in the recent years have shown this much trust to Geralt. Jaskier doesn’t seem to care about Geralt’s reputation. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He cleans Jaskier as best as he can, the bard’s breathing slow. He isn’t fully asleep, and he responds when Geralt asks questions, but he is drowsy, and it makes for a quiet moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Jaskier yawns and stretches after twenty minutes, and there is a grin on his face. “That was definitely a pleasant surprise.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’ve said,” Geralt chuckles. “What, are you asking for a second go at it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Jaskier sighs defeatedly as he continues speaking. “But unfortunately, my stomach cries out of starvation, and I fear I will not live through the night if I don’t eat.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His dramatic flourish is accompanied by Geralt rolling his eyes, and he bites Geralt’s lips. “Pretending to be annoyed won’t convince me to have you for dessert.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt shakes his head, but he can’t deny the desire that flares up inside of him at the idea. “You’re shameless.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier shrugs. “I’ve been trying to get your attention since we left Hayslip Manor. You’ll excuse me if I’m trying to get as much as I can before you tire of me and leave me back there.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The idea of sending Jaskier back there sits wrong with Geralt, but he doesn’t say anything. He keeps quiet while Jaskier prepares them dinner, and he accepts the jerky and bowl of broth easily enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could travel with me,” he says, looking down at his broth. “At least until the next town.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looks surprised at the suggestion, staring at Geralt with wide eyes. “Really? You would take me with you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Without hesitation</em>, Geralt’s mind whispers, treacherous and soft, but the witcher doesn’t say it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not stealing you away,” he rolls his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Hayslip isn’t going to let me go so easily,” Jaskier shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. “So it would be the same thing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt hums and finishes his broth. “Do you want to come with me or not?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s smile is bright, and it makes a warmth bloom under Geralt’s skin. “I would love that, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The morning light burns his eyes and Geralt struggles awake. He slept surprisingly well, and he wonders why. Usually, a wound like the one he had received would have kept him up, at least partially. He groans as he sits up, blinking rapidly. The campsite is empty, but that’s not too strange. After all, Jaskier might be gathering food for breakfast, or taking a piss. That wouldn’t be too surprising. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rolls his shoulders to get rid of the night’s stiffness, and only remembers halfway through doing the movement that he is wounded. He expects sharp pain to go through his body, but there is nothing. He frowns and removes his shirt carefully. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is no wound left on his shoulder, only a few faint silver lines where the Beast’s claws pierced into him. There is small, purple sun right on it though, exactly like those Jaskier had on his body. Geralt frowns deeper as he touches it, and only feels warmth. It’s one of his best healed scars. It shouldn’t be, not after only two days. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets up, pulling his shirt back on, and looks around. There is still no sign of the bard, although his lute is still there, and so is his pack. He doesn’t really seem the kind to simply wander off in the woods though, and the idea of Jaskier being lost somewhere nearby makes something twist in Geralt’s stomach. He refuses to acknowledge that, though. Witchers don’t feel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” he calls out and walks around the remnants of their campfire. “Jaskier!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is no answer. Geralt can’t shake the feeling that there is something wrong with his new travel companion being gone. The morning isn’t advanced enough for him to be searching for their lunch, and there had still been some rations that they could eat for breakfast. So where is he? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt puts on his armour quickly. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice. He had already faced the Beast of Anvar without it, and while he is, mysteriously and miraculously, healed, he won’t tempt his fate a second time. His swords are quickly added to the ensemble.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The burnt leather grip will be a bit uncomfortable in his hand if he has to fight any monster, but it will have to do. He isn’t anywhere near a village to replace it right now, and if Jaskier is in any trouble, there is no time to lose.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The forest is quiet as he moves through it, but everything feels warmer. It’s Midsummer, he is pretty sure, but the heat is intense, and he sweats under his armour as he walks farther, calling for Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The heat, he decides after a few minutes, is unnatural. His hair is sticking to his neck, and he groans a bit as he keeps walking. He hates the heat, much prefers winter. Cold at least can be fought with more layers. This? This is unbearable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sees a rush of light through the trees, and an intense wave of heat pours from the direction a large meadow. Without really knowing why, he pivots toward it. Everything in him is telling him that he should flee, that he should go and run away, but there is another voice, a small whisper that curls around his other thoughts, telling him that this is where he must be, this is where he has to be. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt steps into the clearing, and the source of the heat and light become evident. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Under the bright blue sky, the grass is burnt to a crisp, bleached yellow from the heat. In the centre of the grass, arms outstretched to the sky, Jaskier is burning in an inferno of golden flames. His hands are splayed as well, and the fire curls and dances around him, and there is a wide grin on his face. It could be of pain, but it could also be of joy, and Geralt can’t tell. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” he swears, because he has no idea what he is supposed to say otherwise. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What the fuck is going on with the bard? He tosses his sword to the side, the hot steel underneath his palms starting to burn him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” he shouts and tries moving forward slowly, trying to shelter himself from the inferno. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His skin feels on fire. His hands ache with the heat. His eyes keep closing, again and again, as he struggles to move forward. Giving up isn’t an option though, so he keeps going, walking forward slowly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes him longer than he would like to admit to get close to Jaskier, but by then he feels like he is dying. He grips Jaskier’s shoulder, but lets go instantly. The fire around the bard is real, and Geralt’s hand comes out red with burnt flesh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He groans and tries again, reaching with both hands to shake the bard’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” he yells, “Come on!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has to let go when his flesh gets too raw, when the flames lick at his knuckles and they come back bloody. His blood is escaping in small pearls, and it hurts. He can barely move his fingers, but he isn’t giving up on the bard, not when the man is <em>clearly</em> burning. Geralt has no idea how he isn’t yelling in agony, but there must be some sort of magic involved. His medallion doesn’t detect anything though; there is no shimmer that indicates a curse, no vibration telling of monsters, not even the whisper of a mage nearby. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He keeps trying, trying until his arms and hands are so raw from burns that he can’t move them anymore. His face hurts as well, his lips cracked, his nose dripping a steady stream of blood, and his eyes are bringing up tears upon tears in a desperate attempt not to dry out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gives up, in the end. Stumbles backwards, pain singing through his body, and feels himself sinking into the dry, yellow grass. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun is starting its descent when he passes out, and there is a loud shout, and then nothing more. Geralt loses consciousness, bleeding through the afternoon. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Through fire, the god sees the man who had tried to help him, sees the man who had tried to see him, and he feels his heart aching at the slow death that surely awaits the man. So the god moves forward slowly, every step pressing into the soil dark, ashy footprints, and he crouches down next to the witcher. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Geralt of Rivia</em>, a voice in the back of his mind whispers, and flashes of gentle touches run through his memory. The air is saturated with the smell of blood, but the god does not care. His fingers trail across the face, caressing the wounds gently. Under his fingertips, skin reforms slowly. He has done this recently, a vague memory of it comes through to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beast, a monster, larger than life, and his body, so small and so weak. He had reacted on instinct then, a hand outstretched as he yelled, and the fire in his lungs had taken over. Small powers for a small man, not fit to wield the powers of the god trapped within. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man-god, the god-man, which is it? It’s hard to remember. The day is drawing to an end and soon, he will be gone again, disappearing again. What good is it to be a god, when the god is trapped? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His fingers trail all over the man’s body, soothing the burn, taking away the pain he caused. The man-god inside of him doesn’t want to hurt this person, wants to keep him safe. After all, he had saved him once, and now, the god is saving him a second time. There are times the god and the man agree. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The god turns the man’s right hand, turns it so that he can see the tender skin there, all healed and soft to the touch. With a gentle kiss, the god places his mark there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day is coming to an end, and the god withdraws. His steps take him back to the centre of the meadow, and he raises his arms again. Just a little more, just a little longer, and he’ll be back where he belongs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun sets, and a flash of pain runs through the god. He crumples down on the dirt and grass, and his fire burns too bright, too loud. The god disappears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A man shakes in the middle of the meadow, crouching. His skin is exposed to the night’s air, and he looks around, lost. Where is he? But most importantly, who is he?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">— </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time, Geralt wakes up to the night sky, the stars shining bright on dark velvet. He sits up and remembers. The fire, Jaskier, the pain, it all comes back to him in flashes. He should be dead, he realizes as he looks down at his perfectly healthy hands, he should be dead and burnt to a crisp. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The grass is still yellow and dry, so that part hadn’t been a dream, and there is dried blood sticking to his shirt and armour. His swords are a few meters away, a scattering of grey ash covering them, and he almost clambers up to get them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost, because before he can stand up properly, he catches sight of the shivering man in the middle of the clearing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is shaking, badly, and he is completely naked. Aside from his nudity, he looks completely fine, with nothing remaining of the fire that had been consuming him when Geralt had found him earlier. His eyes shine brightly under the moonlight, and he is staring at Geralt, holding himself tightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” the witcher rasps out and stands up slowly, his body creaking in protest. How long has he been lying down in this position?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier?” The bard repeats the name with a tilt of his head, confusion clear. “That’s me, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt frowns as he walks closer to the other man. “You don’t remember who you are?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know… music,” Jaskier is clearly trying hard to remember, biting his lips as he looks at Geralt. “Songs, walking… Dancing. My name now too… Jaskier. Does it mean anything?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Buttercup,” Geralt answers with a frown. “To some people, it designates the flower buttercup.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, that’s a pretty name then… Who are you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A tinge of hurt runs through Geralt, but he pushes it away. If the man barely remembers his own name, it makes sense that he would not remember a witcher he had barely known for a week. Geralt has no right to feel pained by the fact that he was forgotten overnight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My name is Geralt of Rivia, I’m a witcher,” he says patiently and extends his right hand to Jaskier. “Let me help you up.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier hesitates. “I don’t have any clothing on,” he explains after a few seconds of Geralt’s inquisitive look. “I’d rather not walk through these woods naked.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s quite reasonable, Geralt guesses, but still. He has nothing to help cover the bard, except for his own clothing, which is half burnt. He looks back at his swords and then at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t move,” he orders, and quickly goes to grab his weapons, fixing them to his back again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He comes back to Jaskier and looks at him gently, trying not to scare him. One thing that hasn’t changed about the man is that he still doesn’t seem to have any concept of fear around Geralt. It’s quite pleasant, the witcher will reluctantly allow.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to lift you up, alright? I’ll bring you back to our camp and explain everything as best as I can.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lift me?” Jaskier barely has the time to question before Geralt is putting an arm under his legs and the other under his back.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He yelps slightly and, instinctively, reaches out to hold onto Geralt’s neck. His nails scratch the nape of Geralt’s neck before his hands tangle and tug on the long white hair, and Geralt grunts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mind your hands,” he snaps. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard pouts. “Well, you lifted me up out of nowhere, I couldn’t have known where to put my hands before that! And it’s your fault for having such long hair! Though, it does suit you quite well. Do you do anything to keep it this color or…?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Witcher trials,” Geralt grunts, and proceeds to ignore the bard’s questions until they are back at the camp. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">— </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is unfair,” Jaskier declares, crossing his arms and standing proudly naked in the clearing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>At least he seems to have gotten over his earlier prudishness</em>, Geralt sighs to himself. He goes to look at the bard’s belongings and finds a spare pair of breeches, but no shirts. Right, the bandages on Geralt’s torso had been a white shirt, one that he definitely hadn’t owned. He can’t see the shirt the bard had been wearing anywhere and he sighs. It must have burnt, unless Jaskier undressed somewhere in the forest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here,” he tosses him the pants. “Wear that, will you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, am I distracting you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s grin is still as mischievous and wicked as it had been in the earlier days. All the shyness of the previous day, the way he had curled within himself when Geralt had touched him, is gone. So this is what a Jaskier who hasn’t been abused looks like. Geralt doesn’t half dislike it, and that’s what he finds most disturbing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You complained about not wanting to walk naked in the woods and we are at least two days away from the nearest town. So either you wear those or you go around naked. Your choice, bard.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bard?” Jaskier questions as he pulls on the breeches, his fingers moving deftly and recognizing the material. “Is that what I am? Your bard?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt is a caught off-guard by the question. Jaskier isn’t his anything. They barely know each other. What happened the previous night meant nothing, and in addition to that, Jaskier has lost all his memories. Even if it had meant anything, it wouldn’t be fair of Geralt to tell him about it. They are strangers now, and it would be a burden for the bard to believe himself in a relationship with a witcher. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not my bard,” he snaps and turns around, looking through his own pack to see if he can find a shirt for the man. “<em>A</em> bard. You were sent by some lord to write a song about the monster I was hunting.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, so you’re a monster-hunter? Is that what a witcher does then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right, the man doesn’t remember anything. Geralt sighs and turns around, holding his last clean shirt in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” he says. “I hunt them and kill them, for the right price.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sounds like quite the dangerous job,” Jaskier grins and winks. “Must be quite important. A real hero!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not so much,” Geralt snorts and extends the shirt to him. “Here, we only have that for now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s much bigger than me,” Jaskier notes, but he takes it anyway. “No need to give me such a nasty look when I’m saying the truth…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt is about to turn around when he realizes what’s different about the bard. On his torso, nestled right above his heart, is a new marking of the sun. It’s bright red for now, like a fresh burn, and Geralt reaches out, touching it. He ignores the yelp of surprise and the questions that fall out of the bard’s mouth, examining the marking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s exactly the same as the others, six points and small, but rather than being smooth under his thumb, it has ragged edges. It almost feels like a carving, like a branding. There is no indication from the bard that the touch hurts him. Rather, for the first time, he has gone silent and rigid, his breathing fast and in puffs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” he finally says again after a minute of examination, “What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t have this yesterday,” Geralt grunts and makes him turn around. “It’s different from the others.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How would I know? I have no memory of that,” Jaskier snaps back and turns around to face him again. “I’m not a toy, and I would appreciate some explanation!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighs. He has no idea what to tell the bard. He moves back to his own pack and pulls off his armour. He doubts he’ll need it, and for now he can make do with a half burnt shirt. It’s better than the previous one, which had been torn to shreds by the Beast of Anvar. And he gave Jaskier his last intact shirt. He’ll need to buy some others. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m talking to you, you know? It’s rude not to answer.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a few seconds, Geralt struggles to understand why this sentence gives him such a feeling of deja vu, and then he understands. Jaskier had said something extremely similar only a couple of days ago. He wonders how often will that happen. He wonders if this is the first time it’s happened, Jaskier losing his memory. He has no real way of knowing, but it doesn’t make him any less curious. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can hear you,” he grits out. “I just don’t know what to tell you. You had thirty-two markings yesterday, and now you have another one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You <em>counted</em> them?” Jaskier sounds surprised. “What, were we together? I mean-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know what you mean,” Geralt sighs and turns back to him. “No. I just saw one of the suns and asked about it. You are very talkative, it turns out.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh,” Jaskier says and pulls on the shoes he must have left by the side of his bedroll before leaving. “I wonder if that has changed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It hasn’t,” Geralt mutters under his breath. “Let’s get started on the way back.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You still owe me an explanation. And it’s pretty dark, shouldn’t we rest up before walking to gods know where?” Jaskier crosses his arms and sits on his bedroll. “I want to know who I am, and you’re the only person around to tell me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can do that while walking,” Geralt tries to argue. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I can’t.” Jaskier stays sitting on the blankets and he looks at his companion pleadingly. “Just, please? I have no idea of what’s going on. Don’t you think I deserve to know?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And fuck, he is right. Geralt tries to imagine how terrified he must be, having woken up without memories, with a stranger, and having snippets of information dropped on him like it’s normal. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” he sighs and sits across from Jaskier, starting a fire with a quick Igni. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He starts talking then, slow and measured. He doesn’t know Jaskier, didn’t know him before, but he tries to tell him all that he remembers, all that he gathered as the man blabbered on and on while he was trying to hunt. He talks about Lord Hayslip’s court, talks about the local noble family and what he remembers Jaskier having mentioned. He doesn’t talk about what Jaskier had told him about Hayslip not being a careful lover. This is a new Jaskier. He hadn’t deserved that kind of memory before, and he certainly doesn’t now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt keeps speaking until his throat is sore. It feels strange, talking this much, but he also likes seeing the light in Jaskier’s eyes as he listens. It’s not a happy light, but it is interested and wondering. Geralt can see that the man is trying to piece together everything he is hearing into one coherent picture. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At some point, Jaskier points at the lute that had been sitting forgotten against a tree. “So, this is mine right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not mine, that’s for sure,” Geralt snorts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier ignores his snark and goes to take the lute, slowly plucking at the strings. It’s strange how easily his fingers seem to find the melodies again. Geralt wonders if he remembers playing, or if it’s instinct. Would he know how to wield his swords, if the memories of training were gone? Would he know what to do with himself? Probably not. But his body might. His teachers had always said that once a body learnt something, it always knew it, no matter how long it might be put to the side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pain is pain,” they had said, “and fighting is fighting. If you know it once, you’ll know it twice.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It hadn’t been the best teaching method, perhaps, but Geralt is alive so far, so he guesses he can’t complain too much about it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s strange,” Jaskier wonders out loud. “It feels like I’ve been doing this all my life. I don’t even need to think before the notes are out of me, and there is a melody in the back of my mind…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“From what I know, you <em>have</em> been doing this all your life. You told me you were born for that, or something like that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told you a lot of things?” Jaskier tilts his head to the side. “I must have trusted you a great deal.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I doubt that,” Geralt shakes his head. “You’re just a very talkative person, and you were stuck with me for days on end. You shouldn’t trust me anyway; I’m a witcher.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’ve said, but isn’t your job to hunt monsters?” Jaskier’s fingers are still plucking at the lute’s strings, carefully crafting a low melody that fills the air. “I think I trusted you, and I think I was right. I don’t know why, but there is something trustworthy about you, Geralt of Rivia.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re mistaken,” Geralt counters, but he can’t ignore the way the words make him happy. People don’t usually trust him much; they cry and run before the White Wolf. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think so,” Jaskier shrugs. “You have been pretty kind to me so far. You literally carried me in your, very nice might I add, arms to here and gave me what was your last shirt. I’m pretty sure that’s what’s considered ‘nice’ and I have no memories beyond this evening.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Which is why you probably shouldn’t base your judgement on that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s exactly <em>why</em> I should,” Jaskier protests. “Listen, I have no idea what happened to me, besides the fact that you told me I was burning in the middle of that clearing. I apparently have a new sun marking, and I don’t even remember the others, so that will be an interesting discovery later. But I have the feeling that I can trust you, and right now I don’t have anything to hold onto other than my feelings. So will you, at least, let me have that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sounds upset by the end of his speech, and Geralt feels a bit guilty. He hadn’t wanted to upset the bard. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry,” he says roughly. “I’ll bring you back to Hayslip’s court and you can start being a bard again. They don’t even have to know that you lost your memories, if you don’t want to tell them.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The suggestion sits wrong with him. He had offered to bring Jaskier with him before, but now… Can he really do that? The man needs some stability, something to hold onto. He needs to be taken care of, and Geralt can do neither of those things. A witcher’s life is spent on the road, and he is intent on continuing that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t I come with you instead?” Jaskier’s fingers are back on the strings of his lute and he plays something familiar, though Geralt can’t identify what it is. “I would rather be with the one person I know is aware that I have no memories.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m a witcher,” Geralt tells him for the third time. “I spend my life on the road, and it’s dangerous. It’s not an easy life to lead, and you would be much… more comfortable in a lord’s castle.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hesitates over the word and Jaskier seizes that opportunity. “You don’t believe that!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do,” Geralt tries to insist, but the bard is speaking again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you don’t! There is something you don’t like about Hayslip, and I don’t know what it is, but if it puts off someone who hunts <em>monsters</em> for a living, then surely I shouldn’t go back either.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are not coming with me,” Geralt insists again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would like to see you try and stop me. If you leave me in that castle, I’m just walking out and coming after you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somehow, Geralt doesn’t doubt that. “Why do you want to come with me anyway?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“First, you’re the first person I remember, and you’ve been helping me all evening long. Second, you seem reluctant to leave me with that Hayslip person, so I’m guessing past-me told you something about him. And third, you are a witcher, and you must know a lot of powerful people who can try and tell me why I lost my memories.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt finds himself agreeing, for some reason. Perhaps it would be better if Jaskier were to accompany him. After all, Geralt <em>had</em> offered to take him along the previous day, when Jaskier still had his memories. And if there is a curse, or something akin to that on the bard, then it could be helpful indeed to bring him to a mage or a sorceress. If Jaskier is free from the curse, then Geralt will stop feeling responsible for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” he grunts out. “I’ll take you with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier lights up when Geralt says this. He nearly moves forward, but one look from Geralt stops him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There are rules you have to follow if you want to come with me,” Geralt warns. “If you don’t follow those, you’ll end up dead.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shouldn’t I already be dead though? According to you, I spent the day on fire, and I did just fine.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want to test it out?” Geralt raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got some daggers if you really want to see if you can bleed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m good,” Jaskier answers quickly. “All fine! What are the rules then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt hides a chuckle and steels his face in a serious mask. “If I’m hunting, you stay behind. If I give you an order, you obey.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what, I’m basically your dog?” Jaskier crosses his arms, pouting again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s truly a wonder how such a childish gesture can make the man endearing in Geralt’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you want to stay alive, yes.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if I want to stay by your side? You’ll protect me anyway, won’t you?” Jaskier grins. “It would be a waste of your talents if I were to mindlessly obey to every order you give.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighs. Why has he even agreed to this?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier remains as talkative as ever as they walk back to Hayslip Manor, but Geralt learns to accept it. Jaskier asks a lot of questions he doesn’t have the answers to, but he does his best. He explains to Jaskier some of the things the bard doesn’t remember, trying to remain patient through it all. He has never been very good at this, being all explanatory and kind. Jaskier needs him though, and he can at least repay the man like this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ignores the way he feels tied to the man, the way every fleeting touch sends him back to the moments of passion they shared. He wants to touch Jaskier again, wants to feel him again. It’s annoying. He doesn’t like feeling all those things, and he doesn’t understand why he feels them. After all, he met the man barely two weeks ago, and during that time, he nearly died and was healed miraculously twice, and Jaskier lost his memory. It’s not exactly the right time to be forming bonds. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they are on the edge of Redcester, the main town over which Lord Hayslip rules, it’s been three days since Jaskier woke up without his memories, and Geralt has been wondering throughout it if he should bring Jaskier back with him to the manor. He has an inkling that if he does, it won’t work out in his favour. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he brings his thoughts up with the bard, however, Jaskier balks at the idea of being left out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not defenceless,” he crosses his arms, offended. “I am coming with you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told you,” Geralt grits out, “to stay behind when I ordered you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I told <em>you</em>,” Jaskier pokes at his chest with an indignant look, “that I wouldn’t be your lapdog! I have no memories of what it is you’re trying to keep me away from, and I don’t particularly want to be left alone outside here, waiting for the gods know how long!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt honestly doesn’t like the idea much either. Anything could happen to Jaskier while he goes to get his money and his horse. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s too dangerous to have you within the manor,” he states definitively, and stops the man before he can argue more. “Hayslip will insist that you stay. You might not have memories of it, but you told me he was extremely possessive of you. You warned me that you couldn’t go away without his permission. I won’t be made responsible for anything happening to you again.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is the big, bad witcher worried for my safety?” Jaskier looks amused. “Listen, I’m coming with you whether you want me to or not. We need new clothes anyway, and more food. I want to see the town!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt considers knocking out the bard and tying him to a tree, but he shakes himself out of the thought. He has a feeling Jaskier’s revenge for that would be merciless. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine! You’ll stay in town while I talk to the Lord. But keep a low profile, and only buy the necessary things for yourself. I’ll get my shirt back from you and get new ones in the next town over.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier grins smugly at having won the battle and Geralt ignores him. He has a feeling this might only be the start of it. He finds himself slightly surprised by how little annoyance he feels, though. He would have expected himself to be more reluctant to fight on his choices and decisions with Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt leaves Jaskier in town with some money for food and clothing, instructs him on what to ask for in shops, and then makes his way back to Hayslip Manor. He’ll have to think of a reason why Jaskier isn’t there with him, and he will have to think of it fast. It would be a little less of an issue if his mind wasn’t completely blank at the moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lord Hayslip is waiting for him in a small, lavishly decorated room. He is a handsome man, Geralt has to admit to himself. Blond, tall, with deep brown eyes and curved lips, he looks the part for the nobleman that he is. Still, he stinks the way only the rich and corrupt do. Around him, the smell of moss and burnt cedar is heavy, and it only brings bad images to Geralt’s mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The monster’s dead,” he grunts as a greeting.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good afternoon to you too,” the Lord replies with some contempt. “Am I supposed to believe you on your word alone?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt doesn’t sigh, doesn’t grow annoyed. This is part of his job, and it would be strange for Hayslip to not want some proof, what with the amount of money he is exchanging for the death of the Beast. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He brings out of his pack one of the mutilated limbs of the monster that he had found after Jaskier had gone to sleep the night he had lost his memories. It hadn’t been too far from camp, Jaskier probably hadn’t had the strength to drag him too far away from the site of the massacre. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The scene he had found there had astonished him slightly, but he hadn’t said anything about it to Jaskier. The monster had been cut across the chest, almost completely burnt as well, and there had been dried blood across the cliff face, where Geralt knew he had been slammed. He had cut off a leg and had gone back to camp to sleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tosses the slowly rotting leg on the table. “Here’s your proof.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hayslip grimaces in disgust and looks at it. “How can I be sure you aren’t lying?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess you’ll just have to trust my word,” Geralt shrugs. “Unless you want to go in the woods yourself and find the rest of the monster.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where is my bard?” Hayslip’s question is imperious. “I sent him with you as part of the contract we signed, witcher.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dead,” Geralt grunts with a shrug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has no idea why he said this. He could have gone with anything else: run away after seeing the beast, left before they had even reached the woods, <em>anything else</em>. But no. He had picked <em>dead</em>. Wonderful. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dead,” the Lord repeats with a higher pitch. “What do you mean, dead?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean dead,” Geralt says again. “Got killed by the Beast. Wasn’t anything left for me to bring back, so I buried what I could.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You let that monster kill my bard?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your bard ran headfirst into danger,” Geralt snaps. “I warned him to stay behind me, but he ran ahead anyway, and next thing I knew he was dead. I told you not to send him with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t blame me for your mistakes!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt rolls his eyes. This isn’t even true, but to Hayslip it is, and his scent hasn’t changed at all. There is no grief around him. The lord is obviously faking the distress, and Geralt hates people who pretend to be upset about a loss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He carefully doesn’t think about the fact that a voice in the back of his mind whispers to him that Hayslip should be in tears, should be broken about the loss of Jaskier. He also doesn’t think about the bubbling anger in his throat when he remembers what Jaskier told him. <em>Not a tender lover</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m obviously not paying you, if you are this incompetent!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt snaps at that, and in two long strides he has the lord in his grip and a hand on the hilt of his steel sword. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Listen to me well,” he says through gritted teeth. “I killed the monster you hired me to kill, and I will have my payment, or I’m going back to those woods and bringing out every single monster in there after you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wouldn’t, but Hayslip doesn’t need to know that. Now that Geralt has to care for Jaskier, he very obviously can’t go without money, and he gave the bard the last of his coin right before coming here. He needs that money, and he doesn’t care about threatening a lord who is trying to cheat him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has a feeling Vesemir, his mentor and adoptive father, wouldn’t approve so much of his methods. Though, he might approve of Geralt doing this to protect someone who has been hurt repeatedly by said lord. After all, Geralt hadn’t gotten his disdain for stubborn nobles from nowhere. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let go of me,” Hayslip struggles against him, “You’re not getting your money!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me tell you something,” Geralt brings his face close to Hayslip’s, his hold on the lord’s shirt so tight he can hear the material ripping slightly. “I don’t care about whatever threat you try to utter. I’m getting what I’m owed, you hear? Now, you just have to nod and point to wherever my coin is, and you’ll get to keep that lovely life you lead. Alright?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt towers over the man, and he makes sure that the man is watching his golden eyes. He can smell the thick scent of fear, something that he knows he shouldn’t enjoy so much, but at the moment he can’t help it. This is a man who hurt Jaskier, a man who has probably hurt countless others before the bard. He deserves to feel some fear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” Hayslip relents and points to a small chest. “It’s over there!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt lets go of him and grabs the chest, opening it quickly and grabbing the pouch of gold inside. He turns around and with a lazy parry stops the Lord’s sword from touching him. He steps in close and hits the man harshly across the jaw. A deep satisfaction fills him when Hayslip falls to the ground and whimpers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t ever call for a witcher’s help again,” Geralt warns. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walks out of the room without a look back, and then out of the castle. By the time he is out of the gates, there is shouting behind him and he groans. Of course the lord would send men after him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He starts running and reaches the inn where he had left Roach. He tosses a few coins to the innkeeper and quickly puts Roach’s equipment back on her. His mare snorts impatiently, looking at him with reproach, but he ignores the look and gets on her back as soon as he can.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He keeps her at a trot through the town, looking for Jaskier. The bard isn’t too hard to find, and Geralt stops the horse next to the wandering man. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, you’re finally back,” Jaskier starts saying, and then he yelps as he is hauled onto the horse. “What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We aren’t welcome in town anymore,” Geralt grunts and positions the man correctly in front of him. “You got everything we needed?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes but what did you do?” Jaskier settles comfortably against Geralt, clearly uncaring about personal space. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt doesn’t answer. He orders Roach to a gallop and ignores the feeling of warmth spreading through his chest as he holds the man in front of him. All those damned feelings. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes them two days to reach the next big town, and Geralt spends most of those two days listening to Jaskier complain. It’s not as annoying as he would have thought. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finally,” Jaskier exclaims when they are sitting in an inn with stew in front of them. “I thought this would never end.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wanted to travel with me,” Geralt grunts as he dips his spoon into the meal. “This isn’t going to stop anytime soon.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sighs, clearly overplaying his annoyance, and the light in his eyes is mischievous. “Maybe you could let me ride Roach alongside you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not! You let me ride with you when we left town!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We were being chased by soldiers,” Geralt says. “Different situation. Roach can’t carry two people constantly.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then I’ll get a horse myself!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not buying you a horse.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pouts. “Please?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard pouts even more, but he doesn’t push the matter more than that, instead starting to chatter about the food they are eating. It’s an almost pleasant distraction at this point, something that fills the silence that Geralt usually lives in. He had hated the man’s talkative tendencies before, but now, he finds himself almost enjoying them. There is something quite appealing about having someone be willing to make the world a bit more lively. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Someone starts playing their fiddle in the inn, the sound of it overtaking any other noise. It’s not unpleasant, but there is something a bit lacking to the melody. A bit like a dry piece of meat: nourishing and when there is only that, people make do with it, but everyone would rather enjoy something else. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt quickly gives the room a once-over, finds the person playing, and sighs a bit at the old man. He looks happy, even if his audience is only giving him half an ear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A movement in the corner of his eyes makes him look back at Jaskier, who is standing up, with his lute in hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard doesn’t say anything, he simply starts playing. His fingers caress the strings of the lute, at first so delicate anyone would need to strain to listen to it, but then he gains a bit of confidence, and each note becomes louder than the previous one. It goes like this until he reaches a level of volume that matches the fiddle, and then he opens his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he starts singing, the inn turns to him, wary and confused eyes taking in the young bard. Geralt watches as well, taking in the happiness that rolls off the man in waves. It’s slightly different from whenever he had sensed the happiness and contentment of the bard before. Rather than the warm, sunny smell of sun-tanned skin and orange blossoms, the smell that drifts over to Geralt is one of hot mead and feathers. A comforting scent, that speaks of well-known contentment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier may not have his memories, but his body recognizes familiar gestures anyway, and it changes him ever so slightly. How much will Geralt know of him later on? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first song leads to another, and then another, until Jaskier has to bow out, his voice aching and the smile on his face radiant. The fiddler stops as well, and Geralt realizes that both were essential to the beauty of the songs. He had thought Jaskier’s voice and notes were what made the music so great, but the sound of the fiddle slowly dying down makes him understand that no, there had been a harmony between the two musicians. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">None of the songs Jaskier had sung had been ones Geralt had known, but they had made people happy, had made everyone cheer and clap. Now that Jaskier walks back to the table, he looks happier than ever. Coins have been thrown their way, but when Jaskier looks at the little pile he has been gathering, a frown covers his face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You might be able to afford a horse if you keep giving good performances like those,” Geralt comments.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He receives a hum as an answer, focused and worried, and then the pile of coin is gathered in Jaskier’s hand and he is moving away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be right back!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt watches him walk towards the old man who had started the music, who had kept playing and accompanying Jaskier’s songs through the evening. The old man’s grey eyebrows rise when Jaskier puts the money into the hat on the ground in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The old man starts to refuse, taking the money and pushing it back towards Jaskier, but the bard shakes his head. This goes back and forth for a few moments, until the old man accepts with a sigh. There is surprise and delight in his eyes, and he turns to the innkeeper. Shortly after, both he and Jaskier have a mug of ale in their hands, and they say cheers together, before Jaskier walks back to Geralt’s table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The horse will have to wait,” Jaskier shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">— </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s surprised to find that he enjoys traveling with Jaskier. The bard, while noisy and eccentric, makes for a good companion on the road. He keeps Geralt entertained with stories he has heard in the villages they’ve passed. Some stories are similar to old ones the witcher remembers hearing in legends, but Jaskier always makes them sound so personal and close. Before meeting him, Geralt is pretty sure he never heard anyone talking of the gods as familiarly as the bard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They look for sorcerers, mages, anyone who could be able to help with Jaskier’s situation, and Geralt carefully doesn’t mention the new scars that have appeared on his body. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had noticed, about a week after what they have taken to calling the Memory Accident, the sun scar on his wrist, small and brown, with papery edges. Apart from the colour, it’s the same as Jaskier’s many scars, but he has no idea how he got it. He has no idea why Jaskier has his scars either. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They first meet a mage two months into their travel. Geralt has just finished a contract and he is enjoying a relaxing, warm bath in an inn when Jaskier comes barging into the room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt, get out of there right now,” he says excitedly. “We have places to go, people to meet!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am not moving from this bathtub unless there is a demon crossing the door,” Geralt grunts and sinks back into his bath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He closes his eyes, expecting the conversation to be over. Of course, like everything with Jaskier, it can’t be that easy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get up!” Jaskier is now right next to him and slaps his shoulder. “You might finally be rid of me if everything works out!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s heart seizes at the idea. He doesn’t want to be rid of Jaskier. Instead of saying anything, he blinks his eyes open again and looks at Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what would allow me that reprieve?” He peers into the bard’s eyes. “Last I remember, you said you’d stick to my side until we found a way to get your memories back.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Which is why we are going to see the town’s mage!” Jaskier pushes at Geralt’s shoulders, forcing him to stand up and out of the bath. “And you really need to learn how to do the monster slaying business without covering your hair in guts, Geralt. You have such beautiful silvery locks, I don’t understand why you don’t take care of them.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a bit difficult to not get guts all over when I’m cutting a monster in half,” Geralt grunts but lets himself be steered back to clean clothing. “What town mage?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t know his name,” Jaskier shrugs. “The innkeeper just said the mage gives consultations in exchange for services rendered or money.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have any coin,” Geralt points out as he throws his shirt back over his chest. “How are you planning on paying for the mage’s consultation then?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have coin!” Jaskier crosses his arms. “From my last performance.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You spent it all on a new doublet,” Geralt reminds him with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t have coin anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you could give me an advance then,” Jaskier smiles sweetly. “I would pay you back!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not paying a mage for you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier shrugs. “Then I’ll just offer a service in exchange.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witcher stares at his companion for a few seconds. There is no way that Jaskier is serious, right? After all, no one would be stupid enough to exchange a service with an unknown mage, someone they have never met nor been introduced to with confidence. There is no way anyone would be <em>that</em> stupid.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are not doing that,” Geralt growls. “Do you have a death wish or something?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? It’s just one service! I’m sure the mage wouldn’t harm me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a moment, Geralt wonders how someone likes Jaskier can still be alive, and then he remembers. <em>He</em> is mostly the reason for it at the moment. Perhaps the loss of his memory hurt Jaskier’s ability to make reasonable decisions as well. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, considering the way Jaskier seems to forget he is human every once in a while, reaching for something beyond sight, trying to push past his own boundaries. On some occasions, he walks under the beating summer sun without remembering to drink water or ask for breaks, until he falters in his steps and needs rest, despite Geralt's warnings after realizing it simply hadn’t occured to the bard. On others, he exhausts himself singing and dancing after a long day of walking. It is as if he sometimes has no conscious awareness of his own body's limits.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m paying.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s answering smile is smug. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The visit to the mage turns out to be fruitless. The man himself is barely of any use, trying to look into Jaskier’s memories and failing. There is nothing he can do, and when Geralt notices that Jaskier is wincing in pain, he puts an end to the consultation and brings the bard back to the inn.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is exhausted as he settles into bed, and he looks up at Geralt with blue eyes filled with guilt and shame. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry I wasted your money,” he says with tears pooling in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Geralt can answer, Jaskier is asleep. The witcher sighs and sits on the bed, his back to the bard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t particularly care that he lost money over this. He’s more upset that he couldn’t help Jaskier. The man deserves to get his memories back, deserves to remember who he was, who he used to be before he met Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all, Geralt hadn’t particularly cared about Jaskier before the fire, and he hadn’t particularly paid attention to the bard’s chatter. He had paid attention only when they had fucked, and even then… Guilt pools in his stomach. He should probably tell him about that, at some point. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier doesn’t seem to care much about him in that way though. The bard has been sleeping around, coming back late to their rooms smelling of perfume and foods that aren’t available at the inns they stay in. He saunters over to people’s tables with a saucy wink to Geralt, and sometimes disappears for hours, coming back with marks on his neck and a pleased grin over his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is no reason for Geralt to be jealous. They aren’t together, and he is glad Jaskier seems to be enjoying himself, but well. There are nights he half wishes the reason Jaskier is in his bed is because they want to share a bed, want to feel each other’s warmth. Not simply because it is cheaper to ask for one bed than for two beds in a room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns back to the sleeping bard, watches him for a few quiet seconds, and sighs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll find a way to get your memories back,” he swears in a whisper, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier doesn’t wake up, but he turns slightly towards Geralt with a contented noise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt ignores the way he wants to pull so many more of those little sounds out of his bard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Summer gives way to autumn, and soon enough Geralt is thinking about going back to Kaer Morhen. He had spent the last two winters hunting through the winter, and the one before he hadn’t been able to make it back to the mountains before the first snow. It aches, deep in his heart, to have been far away from his family for so long. The decision to go there is easy to make. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be going back to Kaer Morhen,” he announces to Jaskier one evening as the bard is cooking up some plants and roots they foraged alongside a rabbit Geralt caught in a trap. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kaer Morhen,” Jaskier repeats with a frown. “The name is familiar… Oh, your home?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of a sort,” Geralt grunts, but there is no debate there. If there is any place he can call home, it’s the Keep. “It’s where witchers of the Wolf School are trained before we are sent on the Path.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sounds fascinating,” the bard hums. “When are we leaving then?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt hadn’t known what he had thought would happen once he told Jaskier this. Had he hoped that the bard would say this, inviting himself over without a thought, or had he believed that he would find a court to spend the winter in?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all, they haven’t met any mage or sorceress able to tell them what was going on with Jaskier. They had met as many as they could afford, and Geralt had explained over and over what he had seen and what he had found, but no one had been able to tell them what it was, or why Jaskier had lost his memory. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There is a powerful spell on him,” the last sorcerer they had met with had shrugged. “I can’t even access his mind. I’m not quite sure he is human, to be honest with you, witcher.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Geralt has grown to know Jaskier. There is no one more human than the bard. Jaskier is always humming under his breath whenever he does a task around camp, and whenever there is something to complain about, he does. He picks at his meals but eats everything anyway, and when he thinks Geralt isn’t looking, he sneaks treats to Roach. He is a bright, happy man, and he is always ready to entertain. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Geralt is, unwillingly, desperately, in love with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s something he’s been coming to terms with for the last month so. He had woken up one morning in an inn, and Jaskier had been laying next to him, torso naked and suns exposed to the dawn light streaming in. His face had been pressed into one of the pillows, he had been taking up most of the space on the bed, and Geralt had known. He had known what he felt was real. It wasn’t just a passing fancy after having made the decision to travel with a man he had slept with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt?” Jaskier is tilting his head and looking at him with a frown. “Is everything alright?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt startles out of his daydream. “I’m fine.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right,” the bard drawls out the word in disbelief. “So?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier rolls his eyes and moves the food around a bit, making sure that nothing burns. “When are we leaving?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, right. Jaskier wants to come with Geralt. Does Geralt want Jaskier to come with him? He isn’t sure. There is no questioning that Geralt wants Jaskier to be around him, that he wants to see the bard every day until his dying breath, and that very thought is frightening, but Jaskier has shown no indication that he wants that as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kaer Morhen is the home of the Wolves, and Geralt’s family will be there. They will know Geralt’s feelings for the bard the minute the two of them step inside. Would they tell Jaskier? Would they keep it to themselves? And would Jaskier understand the importance of the gesture? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tomorrow,” Geralt grunts, and he feels himself burning inside. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier smiles happily. “I can’t wait to see your home! Is it big? What about the others? You mentioned you had brothers, what are they like?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt groans as the bard keeps asking question after question. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He answers every single one of those though, and ignores the flutters of his heart when he receives bright smiles in answers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">— </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kaer Morhen is a warm, looming presence over Geralt as he leads Jaskier and Roach up the rocky path that allows access to the fortress. It’s a path he knows well, he could very probably walk it with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back, but for now he remains alert. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier has been oddly silent since they first saw the Keep an hour or so ago. He had finally stopped asking questions, but he had also stopped humming or talking altogether. At first, Geralt had thought he was just trying to be calmer, but now he is starting to believe there is something wrong with the bard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are quiet,” Geralt grunts as they take a turn between a few fallen rocks. “What’s wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing’s wrong!” Jaskier’s answer is too fast, too fluttery, and he avoids Geralt’s unimpressed look. “Shouldn’t you focus on getting poor Roach off this miserable road? Poor girl is going to get hurt!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She knows the road,” the witcher shrugs. “You don’t. Why aren’t you talking?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m talking! What do you think I’m doing right now?” He groans at Geralt’s prolonged stare. “Fine! I’m just worried. Your family, they are all witchers! And they are going to take one look at me and think that I’m just a stupid bard and then they’ll tell me to get lost and I’ll never make it back to civilization and-“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take a breath, Jaskier,” Geralt orders, cutting off the bard’s monologue. “Are you nervous?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, me, nervous? No, never! After all, it’s not like I’m meeting the deadliest people on the whole Continent, who have been trained to fight monsters and magic and curses. And I definitely don’t have a curse on me we don’t know anything about, including whether or not it will set me on fire again!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard’s voice has risen increasingly higher as he gesticulates, and he finally stops walking, breathing harshly. He is shaking slightly, not of cold, but of nerves. Geralt has no idea how to even begin to handle the situation, but he can at least try his best for his friend. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They aren’t going to kill you for having a curse on you,” Geralt stops as well, sighing. “I would have done so a while ago otherwise. And I’m sure you won’t catch fire again.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How can you be sure? Who knows if I’m not just going to wake up one day without memories, again?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Even if you do, I’ll be there to help you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’ve found a way to get you back to yourself, alright? Don’t worry so much.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a huff from Jaskier as he starts walking again. “That’s easy for you to say! You have your memories, you know who you are, you have a home and a family! I don’t even know for sure about any of those! The only thing I know is… Well, it’s you. You are the only person I can trust, and I trust you when you say that my name is Jaskier, that I’m a bard… But what if I have a family looking for me out there? I can’t even go back to them because I don’t know they exist.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighs deeply and looks at his companion. “I promise, we’ll start our search again in the spring. But for now, winter is a good time to rest and recharge, to make sure that we can all be good to go back to the Path when the time comes. If you have a family, we will find it in the spring. Until then, you will be more than welcome with my family, and I’m sure they won’t hate you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why so sure of that? You weren’t exactly fond of me at first, what if they decide that you shouldn’t have brought me with you to your home? I don’t want you to argue with your family because of me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have so many worries,” Geralt groans, wondering whether or not he regrets asking Jaskier what was wrong. “They will like you, they won’t say that kind of thing to me. For the love of the gods, calm yourself down.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">— “You act like I’m unreasonable for being worried, when we both know that I have no idea of what next awaits me! You have told me barely anything about your siblings! And what about your father? You have to tell me more about them.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You spent about two hours asking me questions about them,” Geralt remarks. “I don’t think there is anything more I can tell you at this point.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t tell me what their favourite songs are! What if they don’t like my music? Geralt, I live to play, I can’t stop playing because your siblings don’t like my songs, I’ll have to write new ones for them!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt rolls his eyes again and keeps moving forward, the other man sputtering and catching up with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier doesn’t stop talking the whole rest of the way to Kaer Morhen. It’s a bit of a wonder how he can have so much speaking energy and still be capable of walking without veering into the gorge that lurks nearby. Although, Geralt does have to catch him a few times before he steers too far away, but still. The man truly has no sense of self-preservation. Though what with him burning bright and, though not remembering it, coming out of it alive, Geralt supposes there’s not much else that would really concern the bard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Geralt pushes the looming metal and wood gate of the fortress open, Jaskier finally stops blabbering. He twists his hands anxiously, sometimes pulling at the fine wool cloak he had bought a few towns ago, when the cold had started biting his hands and lips too harshly. He had made a point of buying it with his own money, and Geralt had shaken his head fondly. He would have bought it for him, had the bard asked. But Jaskier is determined to not be a burden on the witcher, and it’s a nice sentiment, if not wholly necessary. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finally back,” a voice hails them from the high walls surrounding the courtyard. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aiden is looking down at them, a cat-like grin on his face as he leans over to watch them. His brown skin shines lightly in the winter sun, and he seems amused as he jumps down, landing gracefully in front of Geralt. The witcher is Lambert’s long-term lover, and also a good friend of his, but Geralt is a bit wary of the mischievous light in his golden eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you brought company, what a surprise!” Aiden turns to Jaskier and extends a hand. “Aiden.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That I had guessed,” Jaskier smiles brightly and shakes the Cat witcher’s hand. “I’m Jaskier, Geralt’s bard.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A bard? I see the rumours are true then, Geralt did indeed find himself a companion…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt grunts. “Jaskier’s a friend in need of a place to stay for the winter.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“First time you bring a friend, still,” Aiden teases. “I’ll go get Vesemir.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lambert hasn’t arrived yet then?” Geralt asks as the man retreats. “He’d be at your heels if he were here, wouldn’t he?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aiden’s grin is delighted and a touch wicked, and suddenly Geralt regrets everything that has ever lead to him asking this question. Lambert and Aiden already have a tendency to not care about whoever sees them or hears them, an unfortunate event for all the witchers with fine hearing and fine senses. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll know as soon as he arrives, and then you’ll just regret asking about my own friends, Geralt of Rivia.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, the Cat witcher is gone, running back inside, and Geralt groans. Great, now everyone will think that he and Jaskier are a couple. Not that he would be averse to the idea of it truly happening, in fact he would be more than delighted if it were a reality, but he can’t consider it. Jaskier’s right; he could lose his memories again at any moment and Geralt doesn’t know if he could handle the heartbreak of seeing this man forget every feeling and affection he holds for him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier would probably fall in love easily with someone else, anyway. And Geralt doesn’t want to tie him down like that, to keep him selfishly for himself. If the bard gave any indication of wanting something as well, Geralt would be more than happy to provide anything he might want. Even just sex, if that’s what the man wanted. The witcher knows he is too far gone, that he is hopelessly attracted to Jaskier in a way that will leave him bruised and aching when Jaskier inevitably leaves, but he can’t find it in himself to fight against the beating of his heart. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” Vesemir startles him out of his thoughts and quickly enough Geralt finds himself being hugged within an inch of his life. “You’ve been gone for far too long, son.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s feet are off the ground by a few good inches, and he can hear Jaskier’s sweet giggles as he grumbles but gives back the embrace to his adoptive father. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was a rough few years on the Path,” he says, his face half hidden in the older witcher’s hair as he is finally let down. “I’m sorry I missed so many winters.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m just glad you’re here and alive now,” Vesemir says, face bright. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something has changed since the last time Geralt has seen him, and he has no idea what, but happiness is a good look on the oldest Wolf witcher. It brightens his features and makes him look younger than he really is, and there is a bright light in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have someone for you to meet,” Vesemir says. “But first, Aiden told me you brought a companion?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns his eyes to Jaskier then, and another smile appears on his lips. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vesemir, this is-“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier, how good it is to see you again!” Vesemir’s arms are around the bard in a second and he gives him a hug, shorter and less intense than the one he had given Geralt, but still warm. “How have you been, old friend?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard looks as confused as Geralt is, and there is a strange feeling in Geralt’s chest as he takes in the easy acceptance and the casual companionship his father seems to remember having with the bard. Where could he even have met him? And when? Vesemir hasn’t left Kaer Morhen, except to go to the nearby villages, in at least three decades. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” Jaskier says when Vesemir finally lets go of him, and the bard steps back closer to Geralt, his hands reaching to clutch at the witcher’s sleeve. “I don’t know who you are.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a moment of confusion, a brief instant of hurt in Vesemir’s eyes as he steps backward. He glances back and forth between Geralt and Jaskier before sighing heavily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s go inside. I hope I didn’t frighten you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s alright,” Jaskier says quickly, eager to please. “I’ve got some issues lately, and I lost my memories…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That would explain it then.” Vesemir sighs again and leads them back inside. “You two go put Roach in the stables, I’ll be waiting inside with some warm wine.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s hand is still holding onto Geralt’s arm, and the witcher says nothing as they walk to the stables. He can feel the sharpness of breath coming from the bard, the way he drags every single breath out of his throat in an almost painful manner. His hand is a hot weight on Geralt’s sleeve, almost burning him even through the layers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you alright?” he asks gently as he takes the packs from Roach’s saddles and gives them to Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard takes them without blinking and shrugs. “I just. Your father seemed to recognize me and I have no idea of who he is… There is something almost familiar about him but I can’t place it, and I can’t even try to search my memories. It’s so frustrating, to not know my own past!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I understand,” Geralt sighs and removes the saddle from his mare. “We will find a solution though. The library here is large and full of forgotten books. There might be something to help you in those tomes.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if there isn’t?” Jaskier is almost sobbing suddenly, his voice breaking. “What if I am truly doomed to be this way forever? I don’t want to forget everyone again, I don’t want to forget you!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt draws him against his chest and holds him tightly. “I won’t let that happen again. On my honor, I won’t let you forget me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll stay, even if I forget you again, and again, and again?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tears fall against Geralt’s cloak. The bard is shaking in Geralt’s hold, but he slowly calms down as the witcher rubs his back soothingly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll stay,” he promises. “Whatever happens, I’ll stay. You’re my friend, Jaskier. I won’t abandon you when you need me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another sharp intake of breath and Jaskier steps back, drying his tears and looking almost ashamed of himself. He takes a few seconds to make sure he is looking alright and then he smiles at Geralt, a poor echo of his usual brightness. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you then.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt can only nod, at a loss for more words. He doesn’t know if he will ever find a solution to Jaskier’s problem. They don’t even know what Jaskier’s problem is, after all. If only they could figure that out… Perhaps Vesemir will know. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on then, my father is waiting for us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He steers Jaskier away from the stables and back to the keep. It is nearly exactly like in his memories, and Geralt only spares a brief thought to the new building at the end of courtyard. It is not a small building, and it looks like a barn. The scent of goats is pungent, but not wholly disagreeable, and when they walk into the keep, it disappears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The stone walls are as bare as ever in the large hallways that lead to the main hall, but when they walk into the room, there is a roaring fire and warm tapestries hang on the walls. This is more homey than Geralt can remember, and he remembers Vesemir’s words. Someone he has to meet. Would that person be the reason for the decor changes and for Vesemir’s happiness? If so, Geralt might have to thank them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all, despite his reputation, he doesn’t hate comfort. He actually loves being surrounded in softness, in warm memories of his family. They have gone through rough times here, but this is their home, a Witcher’s Keep. This is where they all belong, at the end of their day. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It looks different from what I had expected," Jaskier remarks in a small whisper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Had you expected rubble and ruins?" Aiden has reappeared next to them, and he grins maliciously. "Or maybe riches beyond comparison?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Neither," Jaskier shrugs, looking less unsure than he had when Vesemir had recognized him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That's something Geralt has found himself enjoying greatly about the bard. He has a spine of steel, and whenever he flinches, he gets back to his senses after a short amount of time. It probably helps in this situation that Aiden and Jaskier have a similar sense of humor. They are both dry and teasing, witty in ways that Geralt isn't. Geralt isn't short-witted, but Jaskier thinks fast, snapping his thoughts easily and flawlessly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Geralt had only described his home has having been sacked, but this looks... rather comfortable. In fact," Jaskier casts a look around them, his nose scrunching slightly as he smells warm food, "this feels very much like any home I could ever imagine." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That would be because of Ellis," Aiden smiles fondly. "You'll meet him soon enough." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The name reminds Geralt of something, but he can't quite place it. He hasn't been here in so long. He has missed this. He should have come back sooner. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Vesemir wanted to have a talk with us," Geralt grunts. "If he looks for us, tell him we are putting our packs in our rooms. I'll give Jaskier yours, since you never use it anyway." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aiden laughs. "That's alright with me. My pack is already in Lambert's room anyway." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looks amused by the conversation between the two witchers. His eyebrows go up and he huffs slightly with repressed laughter when Geralt rolls his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll sleep," he tells Jaskier and leads him upstairs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The stairs have been fixed, the few broken steps having been redone with lighter, younger wood, and Geralt goes from surprise to surprise. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He puts his pack in his room first, and is glad to see that nothing has changed there. It's not covered in dust either, which is a bit strange, but he doesn't concern himself over it. After all, he had sent word that he was coming back, so Vesemir might have been feeling gracious enough to prepare his room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A bit further down the corridor, Aiden's room is unlocked, and the small cat once engraved by a drunk Lambert is still visible on the door. It makes Geralt smile a bit. The poor attempts from his brother at seducing the Cat witcher had been truly hilarious to watch. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lets Jaskier in and waits for the bard to put his pack at the end of the bed before fixing his looks quickly in the mirror and removing his winter cloak. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room is simple, but Jaskier seems more happy as they go back downstairs. He still isn't back to chattering as he usually would, but his steps are lighter and he has a soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir is waiting for them in the main hall, sitting at the table with a few papers in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What is the first thing you remember, Jaskier?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has chosen to dive right into the subject, and that's more like the Vesimir Geralt remembers. Still, there is a softness in his eyes, kind and gentle. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It isn't that he wasn't kind as they were growing up, but he was also one of the masters, one of their many professors. Eskel, Lambert, and Geralt had liked him more than the others, and he had been more willing to let them mess up and be childish than the others; that had been a great reprieve at times. Still, it had taken them a few decades before they had felt comfortable calling him their father. It had taken them all a while after the sacking of Kaer Morhen for them to allow themselves to view each other as family. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Waking up naked while Geralt was unconscious," Jaskier answers Vesemir as he sits down. "I can't remember anything before that, despite the fact that Geralt tells me that I had met him beforehand..." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Naked?" Vesemir questions and looks at Geralt with surprise in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He burnt his clothes off." Geralt rolls his eyes at the slight disapproval in the older man's eyes. "I gave him my clothes as soon as we were back at camp, no need to scold me." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier chuckles and looks at him fondly. It makes Geralt's heart twist, almost makes him hope. He wants this, and a thousand more such looks from Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir hums slightly. "Do you remember who you are?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know that I'm a bard and that my name is Jaskier... I can't really remember anything beyond that." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing at all?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard is slowly retreating onto himself, and Geralt places a hand on his shoulder. He hopes it is even slightly comforting. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What do you know?" He turns to Vesemir, trying to keep any pleading out of his voice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a selfish part of him that hopes Vesemir doesn't know anything, that he mistook Jaskier for another Jaskier or that it is all a prank that he is playing on them with Aiden. He doesn't want to lose Jaskier, doesn't want to think about what his life will be again when the bard is gone. Dull, boring, lonely. Jaskier brightened his days in a way he hadn't thought possible.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the rest of him, the part that knows Jaskier deserves better, deserves to know who he is and whether he has a home to go back to, hopes that Vesemir will know what is happening to Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're much more than just a bard," Vesemir sighs and extends a paper to Jaskier. "Although, even a century ago, you certainly had an affinity for the arts." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"A century...?" Jaskier takes the paper with a trembling hand and looks down at it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A younger version of Vesemir is drawn there, with a man that is, undoubtedly, Jaskier. There are sketches and scribbles of lyrics covering the page. The writing is undoubtedly Jaskier's. It is the same sprawling letters, the same excited strokes and circles around words that he likes. Geralt has seen Jaskier write enough songs and poems to know what the man’s handwriting is like. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The first time I met you," Vesemir starts, "I was barely seventy, only a few decades onto the Path. I was fighting with some drowners and was in a bad position, having lost both of my swords, when you rescued me. You burnt the beasts with a bright fire that didn't even touch me. I was, as any witcher would have been, wary of you at first. But you only wanted company, someone to talk and walk with. You followed me despite my warnings that you should stay back and enjoy your life. Of course, you wouldn't. I let you come along, and didn't ask questions about the fire I had seen coming from your hands.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Come winter, I left for Kaer Morhen and bade you farewell, not hoping to see you again. But there you were when I went back to the Path, strumming your lute and laughing at me while sitting on a rock and enjoying the weak sun of spring." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier and Geralt are both enraptured by the tale, listening avidly to Vesemir's story. He doesn't talk often of what he went through while on the Path, and Geralt can't say that he blames him. He'd rather not talk about it either some days. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It took you five years to tell me that you were, in fact, not human. Of course, I had guessed that much long before, but we had both carefully avoided the subject." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Not human?" Jaskier gasps out the question, clutching the paper tightly in his hands. "What do you mean, not human?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You are a deity, Jaskier," Vesemir says gently. "In fact, you are Akella, deity of the sun. Akella means buttercup in your native tongue, and you chose the name Jaskier for that reason." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir slides another paper forward, and Geralt is the one to take it this time. Jaskier looks shaken as he listens to Vesemir. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt glances at the paper and is surprised to see the same mark that is on Jaskier's body, as well as on his own wrist and shoulder. The purple sun is clearer on paper than on his own body, but he would recognize it anywhere. Around it, there are writings, in a language that Geralt doesn't know. It isn't Elder or any of the other magical languages he knows of. Next to the words, there are translations in the common tongue, and, when the meaning lends itself to it, small drawings. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Akella," Jaskier repeats in a shaking tone, and Geralt thinks he feels a twinge, or pinch, at the marks on his wrist and shoulder. "Why don't I remember it?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know," Vesemir sighs a bit. "We didn't always travel together, and the last time I heard from you was over a century ago, when you told me you were returning to your realm to put your affairs in order. It coincided with the time I took my position as a fencing professor here. We parted ways then, and I wasn't even aware you had come back until just now." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't understand..." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of Jaskier's whisper is lost to Geralt when he hears footsteps, ones he doesn't know, and the scent of goats is back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is up and has his sword drawn, facing the intruder, before anyone else can react. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man standing in the doorway to the stairs that lead to the kitchen is taller than him. He has a mid-length red beard, and bright green eyes that seem to twinkle in the firelight. He is holding a small goat in his arms and looks at Geralt with an eyebrow raised and a small smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You must be Geralt then. I'm Ellis."</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What are you doing here," questions Geralt, not putting his sword away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He is here because he lives here. Ellis is my husband, Geralt, something you would know if you had bothered to come back during the past winters." Vesemir has stood, and rounded the table to stand between Ellis and Geralt. "Put that sword away now." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt obeys reluctantly and looks at his father with a questioning look. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You married a human?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I married the man I love," Vesemir corrects. "I told you I had met someone the last winter I saw you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt vaguely recalls it, but he hadn't paid more attention to it than necessary. He finds himself feeling stupid now. Why hadn't Lambert mentioned it at their last meeting? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Jaskier has recovered from his earlier shock and approaches, smiling pleasantly. "I wasn't aware that Vesemir had a husband, but I'm not aware of many things lately." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He extends a hand but then takes it back, looking at the baby goat occupying the man's arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's a pleasure as well, Jaskier." He chuckles at Jaskier's surprised look. “Aiden told me the two of you had arrived. Would you like to hold her?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier brightens up at the offer and carefully takes the goat from the man's arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Careful, she can be feisty," Ellis says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is no need to worry. Letting out a little bleat, the goat burrows herself into Jaskier's arms and settles like that, looking absolutely at peace there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's quite an adorable picture, and Geralt finds himself smiling as the bard coos and pets the goat. Despite his troubling discovery, Jaskier seems determined to enjoy himself and to learn to know the Wolves of Kaer Morhen and their partners. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">--</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After that, winter passes easily. Eskel and Lambert come home, and both easily take a liking to Jaskier. Eskel also takes a liking to the baby goat Ellis had brought in the day of Geralt and Jaskier's arrival, and names her Lil' Bleater. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The small beast, while absolutely adorable, is a terror to everyone except Ellis, Jaskier, and Eskel. She somewhat tolerates Aiden and Vesemir, but whenever she sees Lambert or Geralt, she bleats loudly and charges at them. And despite her size, the witchers have learnt to run away from her headbutts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As it turns out, Ellis is a goat herder, and as an engagement gift, Vesemir had built the barn that Geralt had noticed. He keeps his flock there during the winter, and when Geralt visits it he finds it to be a rather nice place, well insulated and trapping the warmth inside.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ellis also happens to be a lovely man, who makes them all laugh, and who insists that Vesemir dance with him in the evenings when Jaskier plays the lute. Regularly, Aiden and Lambert join in, laughing and having fun. Eskel has drawn Geralt into a dance more than once, but each time, Geralt can't help but wonder how it would feel to dance with Jaskier.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The newly discovered Sun God appears to accept his new identity rather easily, although Geralt isn't quite fooled. There are days where he is quieter, a bit more somber and closed off. On those days, Geralt sits with Jaskier quietly and reads him passages of books he finds in the library. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt finds himself thoroughly amused when all the goats are drawn to Jaskier when they visit the barn together. The animals flock around the bard's knee and bleat for attention, and Geralt can't help but laugh. This earns him a pout from his friend, but the effect is diminished by the fact that he looks absolutely delighted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Must be your godly aura," Geralt teases. "The goats probably feel it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is on the ground, getting swarmed by goats and giggling, when he answers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Perhaps it is! No matter why they love me, this is truly a blessing." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They fill their days with researching why Jaskier may have lost his memories, and had apparently lost them before. Kaer Morhen's library is vast, and they find various books mentioning sun deities, but it is significantly harder to find any mentioning Akella, or memory curses. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It must have been either a very powerful mage, or another god," Geralt reasons one afternoon, after they have spent the whole day, save for lunch, in the library. "No one else could curse a god to keep losing his memory." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What I don't understand is <em>why</em>." Jaskier sighs and pushes the book he was skimming through towards Geralt. "There must have been a reason for me to be cursed to believe I am human, and also to lose my memories! I don't think a mage could have done it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Another god then?" Geralt picks up the book. "You might have pissed off the wrong deity." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wouldn't surprise him, if it were the case. From what he knows about gods, they are petty, vengeful beings, who hate not having their way. A bit like nobles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, except Jaskier. Geralt has to admit the bard is truly a good person. Sure, he is petty and sometimes acts faster than he thinks, and he has a tendency to talk a little too much and to be a bit too loud, but Geralt remembers clearly multiple times when Jaskier gained money through his performances, only to give most, if not all, to someone in need. Jaskier has a kind heart, and a kind soul. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It seems a bit foolish as a curse," Jaskier shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Is it? You wouldn't ever know for sure that you're cursed, and unless someone found you while you burnt, you would have no memories of it. It seems to me like it's a good punishment." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But if I don't ever remember it," Jaskier counters, his fingers idly tracing a sun pattern on the table, "it doesn't really ring of punishment. Because I don't know that I'm being punished, and I enjoy myself during the year. Plus, a bard isn't exactly the profession I'd pick to make someone suffer if they had wronged me." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt has to agree that the god has a point. "Maybe a spell that backfired then." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Maybe." Jaskier's eyebrows draw together as he keeps tracing the sun on the table. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, a small fire erupts where his fingers had been, and he swears ardently as he puts it out with his hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry about that," he tells Geralt once everything is back under control and they've made sure that none of the books have burnt. "It's been happening a little more over the last few days. My powers showing up, randomly..." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt frowns. He hadn't known that; he should have noticed that something was wrong, that there was something off about his bard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Plus, it’s the middle of winter, and I'm feeling really tired and in need of sunlight and warmth," Jaskier continues. "It's rather annoying, how tired I can be from just doing research. I don't know how you can do this and still train every morning with your brothers. Although, I'll say, I'm not comp-" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Midwinter," Geralt erupts as he realizes something. "That's it!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Wait what? You lost me, dear." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt doesn't answer; he gets up and rifles through a few discarded books from their previous sessions, sighing in relief when he finds the gold and red one titled, <em>“Of Sun and Fire: A compendium on magical abilities of fire based creatures”</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He brings the book back to the table, excitement coursing through his veins and making his heart beat faster than it usually would.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He flips through the book until he finds the correct page. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I read something about midwinter and midsummer the other day," he quickly explains to Jaskier as he reads through the page. "I didn't register it because I didn't realize that midsummer had been a significant date, but you are a Sun God, I should have known that kind of detail was important!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Honey," Jaskier says in a worried tone and puts his hand on Geralt's. "What on earth are you talking about?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Here, read!" Geralt extends the book, fingers tapping the correct passage for Jaskier. "You'll understand." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier raises an eyebrow but reads aloud: </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>There are a few periods of significance to the possessors of Fire abilities, excluding mages who draw from Chaos and not the Breath of Life. The highest point of those days is midsummer, when fire creatures will have the strongest connection to their powers and are known to be at their most powerful. The lowest point is, in contrast, midwinter. While winter is in general a season when fire creatures prefer to find themselves lulled by a roaring fire in place of the natural sun, on midwinter they are weaker and less in control of their powers, though it does not mean they are any less dangerous.</em>" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He trails off after that, looking thoroughly shaken by this new revelation. His blue eyes seek out Geralt's and the Witcher can't help himself; he reaches out and gently squeezes the bard's shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We understand at least why your powers are acting up right now," he says. "And I think that perhaps, the fact that it was midsummer matters to why you were burning, and why you lost your memories.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But why?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe your godly side was trying to protect you from something? You burned for a whole day, and you healed me during that day. Which means that you, or at least some part of you, was aware of who I was. So you had some memories then. Your memories weren’t gone until you woke up completely naked.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you saying that I deliberately erased at least a year’s worth of memory, willingly?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe not willingly, maybe...” Geralt hesitates a bit. “What if it was a spell you tried to cast, that backfired, and it was the only way your body found to cope with it?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier winces. “Sadly, that does sound like something I would have done.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt grins a bit. “It really does.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So how do I break it? How do I return to normal?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have no idea,” Geralt shrugs. “We would need to understand what kind of spell exactly backfired, and why it backfired, and even then, it might not work. Mages hate spells that turn into curses, the intent behind them is hard to determine if the person who is cursed doesn't remember."</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Right." Jaskier sighs heavily. "So, I'll lose my memories all over again by next midsummer, and it'll be back to zero. Great." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We have all spring," Geralt says gently. "And even if you do end up losing your memories, I swore I would be right by your side, didn't I? And I will keep looking for a solution, no matter how many years it takes." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's as close to a love confession as he can get away with. It doesn't stop his heart from beating madly in his chest anyway. He wants so badly to kiss Jaskier again, to taste those red lips again, and remind himself of the way they had felt on his. It's a craving, and he almost hates his past self for having experienced that. It makes this love and desire so much harder to manage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is standing up and hugging him before he even notices, and he instinctively draws his arms around him, enjoying the feeling of the body against him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We'll find a solution," he swears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I won't stop until you get your life back.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">--</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They return to the Path when the first snow melts, and both of them regret it more than they thought they would. Geralt will miss his family, even Ellis. He has grown fond of the older man, who treated the Wolf siblings like his own sons, and who always brought a smile to Vesemir's face. He regrets deeply having missed the wedding, but Ellis has promised they would organize a ceremony of vow renewals for the next winter. He'll have a year until he can properly welcome the goat herder into the family.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier, for his part, has been quite open about his sadness at leaving the other Wolves. He had even managed to wrangle a hug from Lambert, a feat that only Aiden could accomplish on a regular day. Eskel had gifted him with a small wolf medallion that he had found in the armory, and Aiden had given the bard a dagger. Ellis and Vesemir had offered him a goat, but Geralt had had to tell them that they couldn't travel with a goat in tow. Instead, they had given Jaskier a handmade cloak to replace his, which he had accidentally burnt during midwinter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spring passes quickly, much too quickly, and with each day that goes by, Geralt's heart tightens. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They travel to mage after mage, but they don't dare reveal that Jaskier is a god. After all, who knows what people would do if they knew that a god roamed the Continent under the form of a harmless bard? It's better not to find out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They are two weeks away from midsummer, and Jaskier has started counting the days in his notebook. He looks morose now, fear clear in his eyes. Geralt hates it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Let's go to the coast," he suggests as they pass through woods. "You haven't seen the sea properly yet." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier shrugs a bit and nods. "Alright, if you think that's a good idea. Think you'll find any contract there?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not taking any contracts for a little bit," Geralt says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them mention it, but they are aware of the hourglass slowly emptying. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They make it to the coast two days before midsummer. They spend the first day enjoying the water, and Jaskier laughs brightly for the first time in weeks when Geralt falls down after a particularly strong wave. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By evening they are sunkissed, and slightly exhausted. Their dinner is two rabbits that Geralt catches, in a stew Jaskier prepares while singing a soft tune under his breath. It's a good evening, and they drift to sleep close to one another, their fingers reaching for each other in the deep of the night. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is full of tears the next day, and the weather is overcast. It doesn't rain, but there are heavy clouds that make the air oppressive. It isn't the most agreeable, but Jaskier isn't in any mood to try and lift up both of their spirits. Geralt isn't either, if he is honest with himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He fears that, come the next day, he'll lose this Jaskier. He won't stop loving him, but it won't be the same one. He'll be different, if ever so slightly, and it makes Geralt's heart ache. He would learn to know Jaskier a thousand times, across a million universes. But Jaskier will have to learn to know him again, and what if Jaskier doesn't like him this time around? What if Geralt messes up from the very beginning? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He watches Jaskier as he swims for a little bit before letting himself dry on a rock, and then he comes to sit beside him. They stay like this, silent and quiet, for a few hours. At some point, their hands find each other and their fingers become intertwined. Neither of them pulls back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walk back to the camp still holding hands, and only separate when it comes time to eat dinner. They roast some root vegetables they found, with some of the meat left over from the previous day, and they don't exchange many words throughout. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt's love feels like it is going to burst out of him, like it is living a life of its own, and desperately needs to confess to Jaskier. Yet, he doesn't know how to make it work, how to make his words sound perfect and right. Jaskier is a poet, and he deserves to be told he is loved just that way too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Strangely, he finds himself thinking of a conversation he had with Ellis a few days before they had left Kaer Morhen. He had been in the barn with the older man, helping with the milking of the goats, when he had wondered aloud about how he had gotten together with Vesemir. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The old fool was hunting a monster, and he got hurt and needed patching up. After that, it was just talking, until I finally got tired of all his dancing around and offered to him to stay for the night one evening." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt had looked at the other man, wondering if the man was about to give him more details than he had ever wanted of Vesemir's private life. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Don't look at me like that," Ellis had laughed, his red beard catching the light as he threw his head back. "I simply told him that I wanted him to stay, because I enjoyed his company and I wanted to be more than friends with him. Nothing untoward happened. Well, that evening." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," Geralt had cut in then, shaking his head. "I’ve heard enough!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After some more laughter, Ellis had grown more serious. "Why do you ask? It's been months since you arrived here, and you've never asked before, while even your brothers asked on the first day they met me. Not you though. So, why now?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Strangely, Geralt hadn't known what to answer. Why did he want to know now? What was so important right then, for him to ask Ellis? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The answer had presented itself in two bright blue eyes and warm laughter ringing in his ears, and he had sighed softly. Maybe he wanted to know what it could be for a non-witcher, to be with a witcher. Maybe he had wanted hope that Jaskier would be the one to say something.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead of answering honestly, he had just shrugged and turned back to the goat in front of him. The doe was looking at him a bit fearfully, but he had soothed her gently, running a hand over her back and whispering reassuring words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"If it is about the young man who is friends with Vesemir," Ellis had said, not looking at Geralt and Geralt not daring to look at him either, "I doubt you'll find much inspiration in my relationship with your father. Though, if I can give you one piece of advice, it would be to not wait too long, and to not let your chance pass. He is a good one, that kid." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You know he is a god, technically, right?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ellis had laughed slightly. "Yes. But just as you are older than me, you two still behave like younglings. Not having the expectation to die soon makes you all take so much more time with life than a man like me did. I may be only sixty, but I know two lost young men when I see them." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt had stayed quiet at that, wondering how he was supposed to answer. Yes, Ellis was younger than him, but there was such an energy that came off of him that Geralt constantly forgot that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"If you want to tell him how you feel, you don't need to be sure that he'll feel the same things right back, Geralt. Sometimes, it's better to leave it to chance, to allow yourself to be vulnerable for the things you really want. I know that you all have a rough time with that around here, what with being witchers and all, but don't forget that you're human as well. Sure, you might have more abilities than any normal human, but you have emotions and you have a heart as well, and it does you no good to repress them."</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Those are the words that Geralt hears ringing in his mind as he watches Jaskier puttering about the camp. The bard is finishing his meal and putting his things away, and Geralt knows his mannerisms. He knows the way Jaskier huffs slightly when he realizes that the fire is too bright for the warm weather, knows his anxious movements as he makes sure, for the third time that day, that his lute is secured safely and no insect has gotten inside the protective case. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here is the matter at hand for Geralt: he knows Jaskier. He has learned the hundreds of ways Jaskier sighs, the ways he throws himself on his bedroll, even how he sings means something to Geralt. It doesn't make sense to Geralt that, despite knowing the person opposite him and knowing how he is likely to react, he still can't say anything. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sits back down, his eyes not meeting Geralt's. There is a shakiness to his shoulders, something Geralt associates with him crying, and he frowns. What's going on? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I can't," Jaskier starts, stops, holds back a sob. "I can't do this, Geralt. I can't pretend everything's alright when we both know that it isn't! In the morning, I'll be gone and you'll be a stranger and-" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Shhh," Geralt soothes and comes to sit next to him, enfolding him in his arms. "I won't let that happen. I promised I would stay by your side, and I will. I don't have any intention of backing out on that oath." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You say that now," Jaskier hiccups, "But what if when I wake up you realize that you don't want to be with me anymore? What if you realize you can't do this again, explain to someone their whole life story again and-" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt cuts him off with a kiss, gentle and desperate at once. He can feel tears on his own cheeks, knows that he is crying as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Please," he begs in a broken voice. "Please don't ever think I could leave you. I love you, I love you more than I thought I could love someone else and if I have to, I'll spend the rest of my days learning you anew every year." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier looks a bit stunned, and Geralt doesn't know if it's from the kiss or the confession. Either way, Geralt had to tell him. He couldn't keep silent any longer, and if Jaskier rejects him, he'll be more than happy to pretend it didn't happen once Jaskier wakes without memories. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You love me?" There is hope and astonishment in Jaskier's words. "You really do?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How could I not?" Geralt reaches out and gently caresses his bard's cheek. "You've made my life brighter in every sense of the word. I don't even know if I have the words to tell you how much I love you... But if you don't, I'll respect your wish and remain your friend when you wake up, and I won't bring up my feelings again-" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Shut up," Jaskier pushes his hand against Geralt's lips. "You can't keep… melting my heart and making me ache so deeply, and not let me speak in any way! You also can't say nonsense like me not loving you, as if I haven't been utterly devoted to you from the minute I saw you when I woke up. If I have to, I'll relearn you every single day of my life..." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a moment of silence, a heartbeat in which they are both quiet, and then Geralt speaks again, his words muffled against Jaskier's hand. With a sharp intake of breath, the bard removes his hands and apologizes quickly, but Geralt only draws him closer to himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You love me?" He echoes the earlier question with another tender caress. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course I love you, you idiot," Jaskier exclaims. "Every member of your family knows! Lambert even snuck some ridiculous oil in my pack with a note saying that it would come in handy sooner or later!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt laughs and draws the man onto his lap, before kissing him deeply. The kiss is gentle at first, their lips pressing together. Then, they open their mouths, and things escalate from there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few minutes later, they are both shirtless and Geralt is kissing every single scar on his bard's body as the god threads his fingers through long white hair. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I love you," Jaskier whispers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Those three simple words mean the world to Geralt. He'll never forget them, will never forget this memory of Jaskier taking care of him so tenderly. This might be their only night together, and Geralt swallows bitter tears at the idea that, had he been brave enough, they could have had at least a few months of peaceful love. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Stop thinking about it," Jaskier chides him and bites his lips punishingly. "We are here now, and we should enjoy the moment." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nods. "I've never told you but... the night before midsummer, last year... We slept together. I was wounded, and I wanted comfort, and you were willing and... I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth, that I didn't tell you we had been lovers at least for a night." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I wish you had told me," Jaskier says with a sigh. "But I can't change the past. And I fell in love with you regardless of that. That's all that matters now, my love." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt kisses him, and Jaskier devours him back. Their fingers trail over one another, learning and relearning the shape of the other. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt makes Jaskier lie down on his bedroll, and then he slides between his legs and takes his cock in his mouth. It has been quite some time since he has done this, but the eager noises from Jaskier are enough to reassure him that he is still pleasuring him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is loud and alive as he enjoys the love being lavished upon him. He grips Geralt's hair, and from his mouth falls a litany of sweet nothings. The repetition of his name alerts Geralt that Jaskier is at his limit, and reluctantly he pulls back, helping him finish with his hand and plenty of biting kisses over his torso. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Fuck, Geralt," Jaskier pants and draws him in for a needy kiss that results in Geralt grinding his own leaking cock against his lover's thighs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I want to fuck you," he can't keep himself from saying as he bites a large mark onto the neck of a very compliant Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier moans loudly and his hips buck against Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Shit, I want that too Geralt, I need you, I need you inside of me right away, come on!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt chuckles slightly and kisses him until their lips feel bruised. "Can't do that, I have to prepare you first." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier groans. "Then get to it, won't you?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt chuckles again and reaches for Jaskier's pack, looking for the oil he mentioned earlier. It takes him a few seconds, but he manages to find it and grins triumphantly. He is rewarded by a tug on his hair that has him moaning slightly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he pushes his first finger inside of Jaskier, the bard gasps loudly and moves his hips lightly. Geralt holds him in place and presses tender kisses to his waist and lower torso, and gives Jaskier the time he needs to acclimate to the first finger. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier grows impatient faster than Geralt would have anticipated. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Another," the bard commands imperiously and tugs on Geralt's hair again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt can't resist him, and he adds a second finger. He checks in the whole time, makes sure that Jaskier is alright, that there is nothing wrong, and he gets a growled order to shut up in between two loud moans. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The third finger is a bit more of a challenge, but it's clearly a challenge Jaskier is intent on living through. Geralt refuses to go faster this time, and when Jaskier insists, he withdraws his fingers with a scowl. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I won't hurt you simply because you're impatient," he tells Jaskier seriously. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know," the man pants and draws him in for a kiss. "Please, keep going, I'm sorry, I won't press you anymore but please, I need to feel you before I forget everything, I need to know you, all of you..." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You will," Geralt swears and kisses him tenderly. "I just can't bear the idea of hurting you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier nods. "I could never hurt you either." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I love you," Geralt whispers against his lips as he pushes his fingers back inside the man. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The noises Jaskier makes are nearly enough to send Geralt over the edge, but he forces himself not to. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finally pushes inside Jaskier, he has to stop every few seconds to not be overwhelmed by the sensations. The last time he slept with anyone was last year, with Jaskier, and he'll never want anyone else ever again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them last long. Geralt's own grunts join the melody of sweet sounds from Jaskier, and he pulls out right before coming, avoiding making a mess of his lover. He finishes Jaskier with his fingers and hand, the bard loudly shouting his pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt lays on top of Jaskier for a few moments, and he presses tender kisses to whichever part of his body he can reach: neck, torso, chin, everything gets loved as he repeats his words of devotion to Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In return, Jaskier caresses his hair and slowly untangles it, braiding it gently and whispering back the words. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They barely clean up before resting together. They keep their arms around one another, unwilling to let go of each other. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them wants to face the next day. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-- </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The God awakens, and feels the tender touch of sun on his skin, the caress of a forlorn lover awaiting eagerly to be touched again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He only gets one day. One day to right the wrongs he caused himself, one day to burn and shine and be Himself again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The God remembers the mistake he made. The word spoken in haste, his tongue catching on the syllables, on the way his native language sounded. He had spent so much time with mortals, he had nearly forgotten what it was to be himself fully, to walk amongst halls of incandescent flame, across rivers of golden light awaiting only his command to be freed and to flow in the world, and had misspoken carelessly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One mistake that could have twisted his fate forever. No one can kill a God, but a God may kill itself, if it isn't careful enough. And Akella had nearly killed his godliness. He had felt it slip away, had felt the spell drain him from Himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So the God had locked his ebbing power down. He had brought it all into a single flame, eternal and powerful, and had let it consume him for an entire year. Then midsummer had come, and his magic had overflowed, too abundant, and again flowed away from Him. So when the sun had set and he could contain it all again, he had brought it back, and sealed it to himself once more. But by locking Himself away so tightly, he had forgotten himself, until the next year’s midsummer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It has been happening for thirty-four years now. The God exists only for a day, burning and burning, exhausting his heightened magic until he can lock it down again. Today will be the start of the thirty-fifth year, and he will gain a new sun brand, to mark the end of the thirty-fourth year. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akella waits. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And waits. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And waits. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the sun is risen, and he doesn't burn. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His body is cuddled in the arms of a man. A witcher? Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Geralt.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akella's heart, frozen in fire for over three decades, is beating madly. Love makes it strong, Love defeats the archaic spell that nearly caused Akella's death. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How simple a thing, Akella marvels and his eyes blink open as he becomes Himself again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is no longer Jaskier and Akella, no longer two but one. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Blue eyes of a god settle on the tender lips of a witcher, and warmth spreads around the world as the god's heart beats happily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-- </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt wakes up to a heavy warmth halfway on himself, and he groans slightly, trying to shift away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, my love," Jaskier's voice reaches Geralt, and at first he smiles softly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then his eyes fly open as he realizes what day it is. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier is on his chest, a bright smile on his lips, and there is something different about him. The blue of his eyes is brighter, less human and more sky. It’s the colour of the sky over them, Geralt realizes as he peers upwards briefly. There is also a strange shine to his skin, something like a glow. Jaskier is pure light as he looks at Geralt and caresses his cheek. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re still here,” Geralt whispers with wonder. “You remember me, and you’re still here…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will never forget you again,” Jaskier says gently, and he moves slightly to press a tender kiss to his lover’s lips. “I’m not leaving you, my witcher.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You remember… Do you remember before then?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt’s hand cradles Jaskier’s cheek and the heat of the other man’s body would almost be unbearable, if it weren’t quite so pleasant. It makes him feel utterly at peace, and he smiles widely, his lips stretching thin as he takes in his lover, again and again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do.” Jaskier’s face darkens slightly, but he leans into the touch and closes his eyes briefly. “I remember everything. I remember loving you, being loved by you… I remember the spell I cast, the magic that threatened to kill me… I remember your father, and I remember the birth of the sun… I can see in my mind, as clear as if it were happening now, the first sunset this world ever witnessed. Nothing compares to being in your arms.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt chuckles, trying to hide the tears of happiness leaking from his eyes. “Always a poet then?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bard’s face splits in a wide grin and he nods. “Always the poet. You make me better at it though, make me want to show you all the wonders this world can bring, and to create new wonders, just so that I can admire as you witness them.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How lucky,” Geralt manages to answer after a few seconds of utter helplessness, when the words of his lover had wrapped around his mind in such a manner he had forgotten how to use his own words, “for me to be loved by the most beautiful god that there is.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t let the rest of them hear you,” Jaskier teases, but he drags another kiss from Geralt’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They enjoy their morning like this, holding each other and trading kisses in between sweet nothings. It isn’t usually what Geralt would picture as an ideal day, but his previous fantasies must have been mistaken. There is no better time spent than with Jaskier in his arms, telling him stories of his past. Geralt loves this man, and he doesn’t know how best to express it, but he tries his best, uses words he had never thought he would use.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It is a quiet day, and they are settling back after lunch when Geralt realizes Jaskier still hasn’t told him how he broke the spell he was under. When he asks the god, Jaskier’s cheeks tinge with pink and he twists his fingers together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you see, I didn’t quite break the spell.” Jaskier bites his lips, looking away. “You did.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did?” Geralt repeats, dumbfounded. He had no idea he had done any curse-breaking on Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a bit of a … metaphor? You see, my spell was supposed to let me enjoy a human lifetime, from birth to death, and I was supposed to then regain my immortal body. Obviously, that didn’t work out… The problem is that a mortal body can’t contain the spirit of a god, so… My magic went a bit haywire. In a catastrophic attempt to restrain myself from dying, or at the very least bleed magic for centuries, I locked Akella, the godly part of me, away inside.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So far I’m following you,” Geralt nods and finishes putting away the last remnants of their meal. “Where do I come in to break the curse though?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m getting there,” Jaskier chides and slaps his thigh lightly. “Don’t be impatient.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt chuckles and nods. “Alright, alright. Keep at your story then.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“On every midsummer, I managed to regain my powers, except, the overflow of it was too much at once, so I simply burnt until I could lock it all away. But since I’ve known you… My powers have come back slowly. I healed you before my last loss of memory, and then I learnt about myself with Vesemir… And I started being able to do little fire tricks. It was the perfect first step. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then last night,” Jaskier hesitates and looks at him through his lashes. “Last night I knew I wouldn’t ever love anyone but you. I know it’s a legend to humans, but to non-human beings, true love is a reality… It’s not anything fated; rather, true love is something that must be built upon and strengthened by commitment, affection, tenderness… All of that, and much more. It also varies from person to person. But when the god in me… When <em>I</em> woke up this morning, I couldn’t feel anything special. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It wasn’t <em>something</em> that made me realize something was different. It was the <em>lack</em> of something. Akella, Jaskier, both of me melded into one another and bled together, bringing back the two sides that had been separated by my miscast spell. And it was… it was due to your devotion, to your love for me. I had wanted to experience human life, and I did, but I also learnt to love and to let myself be loved properly and… It gave me the strength I needed to rescind the spell and take back control. You gave me that strength, Geralt.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witcher draws him into a crushing embrace and whispers words of love again and again as he kisses every inch of skin he can. The sun-shaped scars are still there, but they have faded to a gentle brown color, like birthmarks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be by your side for as long as you want me to be,” Geralt swears. “I love you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you too,” Jaskier repeats the words softly, happily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt presses a tender kiss to his lover’s lips and then rests his forehead against Jaskier’s. They breathe in the same air, the salt from the nearby sea coming to coat their skin as the wind picks up, but they don’t move. They are content with each other that way. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whoola, Here it is :D I hope you enjoyed the story! </p><p>Don't hesitate to come check me out on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/saltytransidiot">Tumblr</a> where I post about dumb stuff like the boys, their families, and all my other fics that I obsess over :') </p><p>If you enjoyed the fic, leave a comment or kudos, they make my days! And thanks for reading &lt;3!</p><p>Go check out Omaano's <a href="https://omaano.tumblr.com/post/622192703266029568/im-really-proud-and-happy-to-share-with-you-my">absolutely gorgeous art</a>! There is an extra piece up there :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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